


AmazingSketches

by philsgiggles



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Artist Phil Lester, Celebrity Crush, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Editor Phil Lester, Fanboy Phil Lester, Fluff, M/M, POV Phil Lester, Phil Lester Is Not A YouTuber, all the dramatic irony, march 10th author is finally picking this back up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-19 08:10:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14233011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philsgiggles/pseuds/philsgiggles
Summary: Phil Lester is just a film editor living alone with his plants and working on his short film. But on the side, he runs a Daniel Howell fan blog and chats with a mysterious stranger with the url flamingdan611. But who is flamingdan611 really? Will they ever meet? And will Phil like what he sees if they do?And what's up with all these eerily familiar pictures Dan is posting?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hmu @philsgiggles on Tumblr! (I changed twice halfway through this fic lol. see profile for more things and stuffs) :)  
> Enjoy, my sweets...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started thinking about this in maybe October? in math class while doodling and decided I wanted to start writing it as a lil chaptered fic. I might add more tags as I go.  
> Just saying: I am not an artist AT ALL (though damn I wish I had that talent) so uh. I have no clue what the hell I'm talking about. (I'm very vague when it comes to artsy stuff and also probably - definitely - underestimate how much time it takes to make a piece.)  
> So just uh don't kill me! :)
> 
> *slightly edited March 10, 2019*

Phil exhaled slowly and regretfully dragged his eyes away from his monitor screen. He had been working diligently for hours on end and craved a break to spare his poor eyes from any further abuse. The short film he was working on, “The Madness of Matthew Swiatzack”, was a personal project that he loved dearly, but it was making his eyes bleed from the excessive amounts of time he spent working on it, trying to get every moment perfect.

_Okay, maybe just a five-minute break._

Phil snatched up his phone and pushed off from his desk, still on his rolling chair, spinning around wildly to the door. He stood up, joints popping in quick succession, and stretched his arms above his head, enjoying the burning stretch. The muscles in his back released the tension he had barely noticed he was carrying but was nonetheless very glad to be rid of. He trotted into his small kitchen, past graying houseplants and far too many video games, and snatched a box of cereal from his pantry. He retreated to the connected cozy living room with his prize.

Snuggling into his sofa, he opened his phone to check his notifications for the first time in a few hours. His heart stuttered when he saw that one notification that always perked up his day: new upload from Daniel Howell. The heady feeling of reading those words had never changed from the very first one that first changed his life over a year earlier to the one that day in his living room. A familiar giddy feeling filled his stomach––like he swallowed pure helium. He bounced his leg a bit from excess energy without realizing it as he clicked on the video as quickly as he could. Immediately, that familiar face filled the small screen.

“Hello, internet!” Dan greeted, and Phil grinned, his smile only growing as he watched the video. By the time it ended, he knew he needed to watch it again, though his aching cheeks protested. Dan posted so infrequently that Phil savored every minute of his admittedly short videos (though they had nothing on Jacksfilms' videos, another YouTuber whose videos Phil used to love). He had been subscribed to Dan for years, since all the way back when he was still "danisnotonfire", and Phil had remained a dedicated viewer. And though he naturally didn’t mention this fact to most people he knew in the outside world due to general (and hopefully mostly unwarranted) embarrassment for the level of dedication he had, the little bubble hidden inside his phone and computer was filled with support and love. In fact, Phil had made many of his closest friends through Dan’s online fanbase. (This had the previously unwanted effect of helping Phil realize he didn't quite like his friends in the first place and helped him to come to rely far more on those he knew online. But Phil had no room to complain––he didn't mind in the slightest; his friends were pretty damn great.)

The video ended far too quickly, and Phil knew exactly what he would be doing for the next hour and a half or so. The first time watching any of Dan's videos, Phil couldn't retain a single piece of information to save his life; the figure on the screen was far too entrancing. Thankfully, the neglect of his phone earlier let it maintain its nearly full battery, a miracle in this day and age. But before pressing play again, Phil ran into his office again and grabbed his notepad and copious amounts of markers, along with his tablet computer for a better visual. He carefully walked back out into the living room, his conquests precariously balanced in his arms and praying nothing fell. At some point, he needed to begin to plan out his work before gathering materials; the copious amount of supplies was completely over the top. His Tumblr, amazingsketches, was filled with pages and pages of drawings of the gorgeous brunet whose video was currently gracing his home, and he couldn’t let his followers down by not posting now. Yes, that was the entire reason why he decided to watch the video over and to stare at Dan for an extended period of time, his followers. He hunkered down and got to work, drawing a particularly beautiful screenshot of Dan he took that was pulled up on his laptop while the video's comforting audio filled his ears, coming from his phone.

Phil spent almost an hour perfecting his drawing and making sure everything, from the shadows and highlights to the stylized coloring, to Dan’s shy little dimple peeking out at the camera, were, well, amazing.

_Perfect. Well, except for… No, Phil, it’s good, just leave it. You're just gonna ruin it. Relax._

And relax he did. Phil posted it to his blog after a short battle of the pictures, trying to find a suitable one to share, and trudged into the next room, yawning as he puttered about the kitchen to make himself some food. Far too often he would be so sucked up in his films and personal projects that he’d forget to eat––scandalous for someone who loved food as much as Phil did. Unfortunately, this forgetfulness also meant that he would never be stocked up on cereal, leading to a horrible sense of disappointment whenever he opened his pantry in search of that sugar, especially at three in the morning.

He threw some popcorn in the microwave, vowing to go grocery shopping sometime that week (sometime when the supermarket was open––aka before three in the morning, when, in some cruel twist of fate, he was usually in his most productive state). He stared at it dully as it went in circles through the opaque window, and as soon as the noises died down, he yanked the bag out. He dumped it in an enormous bright green plastic bowl and popped a few kernels in his mouth as he picked his phone up again.

As soon as he read the top notification, his exhaustion evaporated. Phil gleefully slid open the top message, smiling. He had been talking with flamingdan611 for about as long as he had been posting his drawings, close to a year ago, though it felt like a lifetime––in the best way possible. Phil didn’t even feel like he was talking with someone online anymore - it felt as though they were talking face to face, even if he had never learned flamingdan611's real name. He said once that he didn’t want to lie, but wanted his two lives to be separate. Phil understood, and after some time, the URL morphed into a name all by itself. Sometimes it didn't quite seem fair that he knew Phil's name from his blog description, but Phil could only guess at his. But the irk never lasted long. He was happy to speak to him, no matter whatever his name happened to be.

“So i take it you’ve seen dans new video from that beautiful post of yours,” Flame had sent. Phil could see him smiling in his mind’s eye.

“yeah,” he typed back. “whatd you think of it? the video that is. not my 'beautiful post'––(ty btw)”

“idk,” Flame responded after a moment of typing. “It was fine i guess.”

Phil felt his eyes bug out of his head.

“how can u say such a horrible thing??” he sent with a smiley face to soften his aggressive words. “If u stop being a fan, we wont talk anymore!” This he sent, a little nervously, with a cheeky winky face. There was a pause, but a second later, Flame responded.

“Trust me, that’s not happening any time soon.” Phil smiled and sent another smiley face before his brain could catch up with his fingers. Sometimes he hated this bubbly side of his personality, but many of his friends, including Flame, said it was endearing. He questioned this, but there was nothing to do in the end. No use fighting something that was so ingrained in him. And what would be the point of willingly tampering down happiness?

When no response came, Phil put his phone down and threw a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth. Suddenly, he remembered something and let out a loud, “Oh!” Phil picked up his phone and typed furiously.

“Hey, I keep meaning to ask: flamingdan611?” Typing bubbles popped up and Phil ate more popcorn as he waited. Perhaps it was a little late in the game to be asking, but he had always been too nervous to ask, given his naturally private nature.

“Yeah obviously it fits with the whole dan howell thing but i thought it was appropriate. I mean anyone who knows me well irl knows that i am FLAMING queer lol and my birthday is june 11 so…”

Phil choked on a piece of popcorn and began a violent coughing fit.

_Wait, what?_

Flamingdan611 had always had the one blog that  _didn’t_  overwhelm Phil with  _gay_ , and Phil had always just assumed he was hetero. Sure, every once and a while, he’d reblog some post about representation or something, but Phil had squashed any thoughts of him being anything but straight for so long that hearing that  _He’s gay!_  didn’t quite compute. His brain struggled to process the information.

“Umm ok so this might seem kinda weird but YOU’RE QUEER? Like it’s great and all but i had no clue!!” Phil quickly sent the message, but after a quick read-over, he instantly regretted it. But Flame was already typing, so Phil just sat back and waited.

“Haha, yeah idk i guess im pretty private online with certain stuff.” More typing bubbles appeared and Phil waited patiently. The revelation swirled around in his mind. Could they...?

“But at this point u dont really feel like an “internet friend”, u know? Like it feels like ur in my flat rn” Phil’s breath caught in his throat.

“Sorry was that creepy? Idk”

Phil hurried to respond. “No no thats not creepy i feel it too. if only lol”

“Eventually maybe,” Flame sent back. Phil’s heart swelled and he sent a smiley face that mirrored his own dopey grin. After all this time of the two chatting online, that was the most positive answer Flame had ever given to meeting in person. Phil had eventually stopped asking, almost afraid of why they couldn’t meet ( _what if he’s a middle-aged man, or a little kid, or my mother?!_ ). (And, of course, he didn't want anything he did to make Flame uncomfortable in the slightest.) Every time Phil asked for even a picture, Flame just sent some obscure picture of Dan. At least he got some rare photos out of it. So to see even a “maybe” from the brutally honest boy was exhilarating.

Yes, Phil knew that he shouldn’t trust this person who could very possibly be like nothing he said he was, but the friendship that was there was real. And Phil liked talking to him. So he’d continue talking to him for as long as he could and ignore the warning bells going off in his head telling him there was something he was missing.

Phil gobbled up the rest of his popcorn and got back to work.

_If only fanboying paid the rent._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be very careful with online folks! There are many steps you can take to ensure your safety. Get informed if you're worried about anything, even in the slightest. Anyway, kudos and comments make me happier than Dan in a sloth bear fursuit!!


	2. Chapter 2

Phil chopped the clip in two neat little halves and cringed. Somehow he had ended up with more chins than Jabba the Hut somewhere along the line while filming this scene, from something to do with the poor lighting in the old house, and it didn’t help to ease the worried thoughts that had been swimming through his mind for a few days. After all of these hours upon hours of dedicated hard work, “The Madness of Matthew Swiatzack” was still looking like something a tiny twelve-year-old could put together, and Phil was rapidly losing his will to continue working on it, if he hadn't already. He was full weeks behind schedule on it, and the only times he could scrounge up to work on it outside of his other commitments were times he could be sleeping, or drawing… or talking to Flame.

To make matters even worse, he still hadn’t found anywhere that would let him show the finished product, if that was even an option for him with the way things were going. Too many companies were skeptical of his work, partly because of his age, but mostly because of his… past occupations. Since leaving college, with a fresh diploma and a shit load of student debt, he worked at a few not-so-great operations, including two or three low-end adult film companies in dusty basements. He needed the money, what could he say. It didn’t seem like that bad of a starting point at the time, but he didn’t realize the ramifications. Through these shady jobs he picked up, his reputation in these types of circles was… not exactly what he wanted it to be, and so these home setups became the only kind of gigs he was even considered for. It wasn't as if he was putting these gigs on his resume, either! But somehow it seemed like everyone knew anyway. He was constantly wringing money out of everything he could, and somewhere along the line, he became the world’s most dedicated porn editor/coupon-er.

But then a beacon of light shone down from the sky and from the heavens descended _Sheila_. She was a higher-up in a surprisingly very classy adult film company called Rouge. (Phil didn’t question the name.) Phil had heard about her through a friend who used to work with her, but moved away to be closer to family, and immediately knew he had to apply for a job with her. She was apparently very focused on the progressive side of porn, including very consent-heavy movies and movies that "break stereotypes of adult films propagated through the media". It was less cringy than other companies' shit, at least. When Phil first heard about her, she was working on a feature-length film - one that he later recognized as being one of the best, and especially one of the realest, adult films Phil had ever seen (with some _extra_ smutty bits, of course). In young Phil's eyes, she was a veritable angel sent down by God Herself.

They met at a free movie night in the park where Phil was ostensibly on a date (but in reality was looking for a _different_ kind of merger), and hit it off immediately. Phil _just so happened_ to mention that he was between jobs and - wouldn't you know it - she _just so happened_ to have an empty spot for an editor - and the rest was history. Finally, he had a decently-paying job that left him without a sour taste in his mouth. (Unlike some of the actors, of course.) And if he had to watch professionally-made porn for hours each day in his home office, he’d just have to suffer through it.

But watching _himself_ on the screen, acting like a complete idiot, was a different story. Even with a project as near and dear to his heart as this short film was. Phil had never been one to welcome the personal attention, and he was such a perfectionist and was insecure enough that he couldn’t handle even the notion of showing his face on the internet, _especially_ not on his blog. After quickly growing to become one of the biggest Daniel Howell blogs he knew over the course of those two years, he had been asked time and time again to _send a selfie for a meetup_ or _do a live stream_ , but every time he declined. Politely. He just wasn’t the type, he supposed. Truth be told, he most likely didn’t have a good reason not to, but never mind that.

Phil huffed out air through his lips harshly and catapulted himself out of his position to his feet, wobbling. He almost fell back down but caught himself just in time, core clenching. He paced around the room in tight circles and ran his hands through his hair, only growing more frustrated with himself. And desperate for a way to fix it.

 _Goddamnit_.

Phil went back to his chair and grabbed up his phone.

“Ugh, help!!” he whined to Flame. He put his phone down and walked to his little ensuite bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and spluttered. He rubbed water out of his eyes. _Ugh_. In movies, that always seemed to work. They’d splash a little bit of water on their face and their troubles would follow it down the drain. But, as Phil realized, in the real world, all it did was make Phil’s face wet, on top of his other dilemmas. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Phil threw the little white towel he used to dry off his face onto the counter by the sink, not bothering to see where it landed. It'd join the many other piles of neglected cloths he'd have to clean up eventually. He wandered back to his phone and pulled up the notification that had thankfully appeared.

“whats up phil?” Flame had responded.

“I’m having trouble with stupid irl work stuff ughhh.”

“Oof, whats happening?”

“Its a lot.”

“That’s ok. What’s up?”

Phil took a deep breath in and started to type.

 

***

 

“Oof,” Flame finally responded. Phil smiled despite himself. _Of course._ “What do you think you’re going to do?”

“Idk. I love this movie but rn it’s just a whole lot more trouble than its worth.” Phil frowned.

“Mm. Do you think it’s possible then to maybe just… stop?” Phil sat up straight.

“what?” He replied to Flame.

“I mean not forever or anything. Just maybe until your Creative EnergyTM is refilled and it starts being something you like doing again.”

“well. Thats probably a good idea but.” Phil chewed on the inside of is cheek. He knew Flame had good advice, but he couldn't picture himself _giving up_ on his project.

“Im just afraid that if i stop now, its never gonna get done. And its gonna be that thing yknow? The thing that i tried to do that one time that never happened.” There was a long break before Flame’s response.

“Well but rn its that thing youre trying to do thats never gonna happen cause your not giving yourself time to recharge. ur not gonna get anything done if it stops being your passion because ur working urself too hard. Is getting it done and having people see it more important than making it good, something ur proud to have people see?”

Phil stared at his little screen. “Welp. Sounds like you’ve been here before.”

“Haha maybe just a few times… (idk it works for me)” Flame sent back quickly. Phil could see him smiling in his mind’s eye.

“But srsly, thanks. Thats pretty good advice.”

“What would you do without me? ;)”

“I have absolutely no clue,” Phil sent back, being completely honest. He had no idea what his life (at least his social one) would look like without his friend. Phil grabbed ahold of his little black mouse and stared at the screen. He contemplated Flame’s advice and sighed to himself. He was probably right. Phil wasn't getting anything done this way.

He clicked off the monitor and sat there for a moment, staring at the still-warm screen. He smiled silently to himself for a moment, and shoved off forcefully from the table with both arms. Collapsing into bed, he shut his eyes for “just a quick little nap” that lasted the night.

 

***

 

“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just had the absolute most awkward experience OF MY LIFE!!” Phil sprawled in the driver’s seat of a crisp, clean car, bracing himself with his elbows against the dash. He was a little delirious still, the uncomfortableness of the ride spiraling into a kind of drunken giddiness.

“Oh no what happened??” The response came quickly. Sometimes Phil toyed with the notion that Flame liked him just as much as Phil did him.

“So u know i work as an editor right?” Phil sent. Was he really doing this?

“Yeah thats why u can work at home sometimes, right?” Flame sent back quickly, evidently intrigued by Phil’s bold statement to start the conversation.

“Yeah, exactly. Soooo,” Phil sent. He suddenly began to regret the direction the conversation was heading in.

“I should actually add something to that claim..” Phil typed slowly. “I’m an editor, yes. Of adult films.” Phil could feel Flame’s surprise like it was a tangible thing, filling the car. A beat passed.

“lol phil are you kidding me? You’re a PORN editor? You???” Phil read the message and wasn’t sure what to feel. Did he not approve? Many didn't, but he wouldn't have pegged Flame for the type.

“Sorry, that’s cool n all, but you just don’t seem the type lol.” Phil instantly felt relieved.

“Haha yeah tbh I’m def not lol. I guess thats just how it happened?”

“Yeah funny how that happens, huh?”

And then: “Wait now I’m so curious—what happened??”

“Oh God okay. So I was in the car, right?”

 

~~~

 

”So where did you say you want to go? The crew's heading over to that new soup and sandwich place by Kroger.” Phil questioned the pair in the backseat while adjusting the rear view mirror. It had been so long since he last drove, and he wasn’t quite sure how everything was supposed to… line up. Hopefully they’d all get through it without major bruising. Though the way things were shaping up, he might end up praying for exactly that in a few minutes.

“Wherever you want to go, baby,” Rich crooned in his smooth baritone. Phil rolled his eyes. He had been hoping that Rich would back off with the incessant flirting when he was away from the crowd, foolishly thinking it was the audience spurring him on. Alas, it only seemed to be getting worse. And Vivian, the other resident of the backseat, wasn’t helping.

From the moment that Robbie, a PA and a long-term coworker of Phil's, came up to him at the set, she had been sending not-so-subtle looks his way. She seemed less of the talking type and more… physical. Phil's retinas were still recovering, as well as his poor bruised ass. However much Phil appreciated the sentiment, he very much preferred... a different type of partner. Besides, getting involved with someone in the public eye, even for a night, was perilous. It was enough to make Phil cringe at even the thought. That many pictures being taken, all those eyes looking his way - no, that was not a thing he would enjoy.

Not that there was a lot of weight behind Vivian's actions, anyway. She likely wasn’t used to being turned down, and Phil flew under the radar of most people’s gaydar. Phil didn’t mind, and truthfully, her come-ons were pretty flattering. The men she tipically worked with were less Andrew Garfield and more Brad Pitt, and Phil would take what he could get. It wasn't like he was getting anywhere with Flame, anyway…

_Whoa, where did that come from?_

Phil mentally shook himself and turned the key in the ignition.

 

~~~

 

“So being in the car with a couple of slightly flirty porn stars was 'the absolute most awkward experience OF YOUR LIFE?'"

“Haha no if only it ended there. Then they started asking about me...”

 

~~~

 

“So, _Phil_.” Vivian managed to make even his name sound absolutely filthy. Good Lord. “What got you into the _fun_ side of film?”

Phil snorted softly at the expression and slung an arm around his seat to twist around as he pulled out of the parking spot. “Debt. And lots of it.”

Rich laughed from his stomach, a strong laugh. “Mmhmm. Never heard that one before. But you have no interest at all in being on the other side of the camera? It’s fun as fuck, and I’m sure the pay as an editor doesn’t quite rival that of an actor. And I for one wouldn’t mind working with you.”

Did he just literally lick his lips? Phil swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, but incredulous at Rich’s behavior all the same. Vivian swatted Rich’s arm lightly, “Richie, don't scare the poor guy!”

Phil cleared his throat, “Sorry mate, but I think, for now, I’m just gonna stick to my end of the camera. I ain't a porn star.” He chuckled.

“Sure, Phil.” Rich leaned back, spreading his knees wide and pressing them into Vivian by his side. He turned his head to the woman. “I bet you whatever you want that Phil is gonna join our ranks by…” He pretended to check a watch. “Six months from now.”

Phil blinked but steadfastly kept his eyes on the road in front of him. Maybe if he pretended it wasn't happening, it would stop.

“Hmm,” Vivian mused. “He does have the body for it." A shock went through Phil's system. "But maybe not the confidence. Maybe the debt'll push him over. You’re on!”

The two shook hands, but Phil remained silent. His eyes pleaded for help from the empty road in front of him.

“Wait!” Vivian screeched. Really, Phil had no clue why anyone  _wanted_  to watch her; she was obnoxious enough to turn him off for the rest of the day, most likely. “Anything I want, you said?”

"Sure, baby, anything.” Rich leered. “If you win, that is.”

“Oh, I’m gonna win. I bet he’s such a prude in bed that he’d never share. He’s probably the type that blushes when someone says...” She scooted forward, to the edge of her seat, and whispered right in Phil’s ear, “ _Fuck_.”

Phil, predictably, went beet-red, and the back of the car exploded in laughter.

He never should’ve agreed to this. He never should have agreed to go to the set that day. The fucking lights could have fixed themselves. He never should've decided to be such a nice guy, like always. He was always the nice guy, wasn't he? And he never should have agreed to stay after to get lunch, and he _definitely_ never should have agreed to give the stars a ride to the goddamn deli himself! And it wasn’t like it was even his car, either! He'd borrowed it from Robbie, who had to stay behind to fix a few production mistakes the newer members caused.

 _From now on, Phil, you’re gonna say_ no _when people ask you to do things like this._

While Phil was fuming, a flurry of whispers rose from the divas that were currently the bane of Phil’s awkward existence. Suddenly, they all cut out. Vivian and Rich both were sat completely silent and still, just looking at each other with devilish grins. (Though Phil didn’t catch this. He had complete tunnel-vision on the road - after that long of not driving, he didn’t trust himself to multitask.)

Suddenly, Vivian moaned loudly, head thrown back against the rest. Her eyes were closed and one hand was pressed to her chest.

 _What the fuck?_ Phil swerved minimally. He still didn’t dare look behind him.

 _"Oh! Oh, fuck!"_ Apparently, Rich was joining in on the fun. His moans were animal, guttural, and went straight to Phil’s traitorous cock, which was currently getting excited about the direction this was going in. _Jesus Christ! Is this even funny for them at this point or are they just stubborn?_

 

~~~

 

“Yeah so uh im just gonna gloss over this part, yeah? So anyway after WAY TOO LONG they finally stopped (yknow when we were at the deli of fucking course). And i looked in the rearview mirror and saw them kinda exchange these like disney villain glances. And then they LEAN OVER, after moaning and groaning and PETTING EACH OTHER RIGHT BEHIND ME for like half a freaking hour and stare at my crotch. And LAUGH. Then they just GET OUT and go eat like nothing happened like that wasnt so freaking embarrassing for me kjbhajglvsdbk AAAAAAAAAGH”

“Oh my god phil. Thats insane." He paused for a moment, considering. "And i mean they literally bet on whether youd get into porn. idk but that seems icky u were obviously uncomfortable.” Flame sent.

“Yeah i know?!” Phil went to type more, but paused when he noticed that Flame was typing, too.

“Actually,” Flame sent, and the typing bubble popped up.

“Just out of curiosity, why dont u do it? I mean it seems like a natural extension the way things are going and what kid doesnt dream about being a porn star right? And i noticed u never post selfies or anything like that too. You dont have to answer if u dont want to im just curious.” Phil’s eyes bugged out of his head. He started typing quickly, passionate. But after a moment, he realized he had never really thought about it. He paused and quickly deleted what he had.

“Umm. idk. would you?”

“huh. I don’t actually know. maybe in a different life where no one'd recognize me lol. doesnt sound too painful other than that tbh. always was a bit of an exhibitionist ;)”

Phil marveled down at the screen. _Fuck_. His dick - no his _brain_ \- needed a rest. "Fuck." A moment passed without a reply. Exactly enough time to reread what he wrote. Fricking Freudian slip. Sorta. Not what he meant. _Shit_! He backpedaled, "yeah how weird would that be tho like if a friend or someone recognizes you?? oof"

A few seconds passed before Phil received an answer. "Yeah yeah exactly."

"ughhh alright thanks for letting me vent to you i should go eat now. id say i deserv a gd sandwich by this point."

"fuck yeah you do. anytime." He smiled as he exited the car, squinting at the sunlight, and pushed through the glass double doors into the deli to the cheers of his friends in the back.

 

***

 

It was only later, after his friends assured him that what happened in the car was "just hazing, man", after his stomach was stuffed with bread and meat and cheese, and after he drove home in peaceful silence, that he realized he didn't see one last message hanging in his inbox:

"hey phil? um so yea I mean I haven't really seen a picture of you or anything but. just. idk. You're beautiful, alright? i can tell. And at the risk of sounding incredibly cheesy - your _soul_ or _spirit_ or whatever it is living inside you that makes you so fucking amazing, is beautiful. So just realize that, okay? You dont ever have to be ashamed of yourself or anything. thats kinda all. uh please dont reply to this text im embarrassed enough as it is. this sort of cheesy shits kidna scary. have a nice night phil"

_Holy shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than Dan obliterating gender roles!


	3. Chapter 3

**New video up now: I’M GOING ON TOUR??**

Phil’s breath caught and his stomach dropped to the floor. His pulse quickened. His eyes widened. And he clicked on the link to the video.

“Hello internet. Now, I’ve been on Youtube for, what, almost a decade now? Damn. And I’ve gone around the world just once, and I didn’t even go to so many of the _wonderful_ places where you all live. So... I’m going on a 2018 world tour! Yeah, you heard that right! In 2018, Daniel Howell is going all around the world and meeting all of you guys! I’m going all over the place, from Germany and Poland to Manila in the Philippines, and you can come and see me live, no editing, no filter, no social skills. This is going to be unlike any stage show ever before because you are going to be completely in charge. Yeah, I know, _Dan what are you doing? Noo!_ , but don't you worry, this is going to be 100% anxiety-free, and forced-audience-participation-free for you guys. Because oh boy, if anyone, I know something about that.

"So, if you want to figure out the important questions like ‘Why are we all here?’, and ‘Are we all just postponing our inevitable, meaningless demise in the midst of complete mundanity of the world?’, or even ‘What does Dan eat for breakfast?’, make sure to get tickets now and come see this British nerd in person! I’ll be posting trailers, vlogs, and more soon, but the tour is coming up very quickly, so get your tickets now! I promise, I promise, uploads, frequent as they are - ha, ha - won't be stopping for the tour. But for now, I’m going to go lie on the floor and ponder what I’m doing all this for. Bye.”

As Dan saluted and the end screen took over the screen, Phil scrolled down to the description, hoping to find a link to get tickets, heart still pounding and breath still wavering. But what he found in the description box gave him pause.

“Over the years, I’ve met some of you, but recently I realized that I have a new reason for meeting you all. I can't wait.” Phil stared down at those few words, perplexed. He knew the fandom would be freaking out about it the moment he opened Tumblr, and that the same amount of people would be freaking out about the people freaking out, and the general chaos in the dumpster fire that was fandom would be enraged. But for a moment, he quietly considered what it meant. A strange sensation settled in his chest. Before he could ponder any weird feelings, he quickly clicked on the link to the tour website and sought out his nearest venue. Without a second thought, he clicked on the little red link that brought him to the venue’s site. This was actually happening!

And then his world came crashing down. Living alone, in a huge city, with the kind of job he had, his meager budget was hardly enough to splurge on some ice cream every once and a while, let alone spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on a single night! Even if it _was_ for Dan Howell. Maybe he could settle for a regular ticket, but even that was too expensive. And he really fucking wanted to meet Dan. So badly it hurt.

Phil sat back in his chair and heaved out a sigh, typing out a single word to send to Flame: “Fuck.”

The response came quickly, even though the little green bubble hadn’t marked Flame as present on Tumblr before Phil messaged him. “ikr?? He’s going on tour wtf!!”

Phil’s stomach turned uncomfortably and a bitter feeling filled him, “Yeah i know its great!”

“Phil whats wrong?” Of course Flame could tell. Their relationship seemed to have changed, ever so slightly, after The Text, at least from Phil's point of view. It all felt more _real_. Or at least, Phil was now aware of all that he was pretending not to notice. Everything he had been suppressing for almost two years cried for his attention. That painful pang in his chest that made him struggle for breath increased in occurrences. And yet he felt grounded, safe. But Phil knew Flame would have always picked up on when he was upset, not only recently. For whatever reason, that thought made heat swirl through his chest. He hastily returned to typing to distract himself from the sappy bullshit he was spouting.

“Well its just have you seen the price of the tickets tho? Im a porn editor for fucks sake lol.”

“oh.”

“yea i mean i want to go but i dont think ill be able to unless i can pull in some cash pretty quickly before all the vip tickets are gone.”

He sent another message a moment later. “any ideas? yknow, other than whoring myself out like Rich wants lmao…”

He began to type out another message, but decided against it at the last moment. He didn’t want to come off too needy. Though he supposed after this long of talking with him, Flame would be used to Phil’s tendency to get over-excited. But nonetheless, Phil held off. And just a moment later, Flame responded.

“Idk. you’re already working like constantly, what with ur personal project too, and if u give up ur drawing time, idk what id do with myself haha.” Phil chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Idk tho. i mean i guess ive already met him once at DTINOF and its not like he would remember me anyway right? its one like two minute conversation in a million. Even when you are probably the sole fanboy older than him”

Right when his message sent, another one from Flame came in. “Wait a minute that might be it! Why not take commissions? With all your followers I’m sure u could make enough money for a ticket that way!!”

Phil considered it for a moment, heart growing lighter from hope. Maybe he could actually do it! But as he went to commend Flame, another message came in.

“And phil? sure hes meeting a lot of people, but at least from what I can tell you’re pretty damn special. if that idiot doesn’t remember you after, hes fucking blind. and besides if it would make you happy to meet him, fight for it, yeah?”

Phil smiled and his toes wiggled in his sneakers. He forgot to breathe. “Yeah :) And i like the commission idea! But really idk if anyone would actually want my drawings? Let alone pay for them??? idk”

Phil swore he could feel fondness emanating from his screen when Flame responded, “Hell yeah! Youre probably the most talented person ive ever met! They should be so lucky :)” _"Most talented..."_ Sometimes Phil truly believed he could float. Just will himself off the ground and hover on a cloud of whatever was lingering in his chest.

Flame continued, unaware of Phil's wandering thoughts. “*well not really MET met, but you know what i mean.”

“Lol yeah i do. Thanks. I guess well see! you always were the smart one in this relationship ;)” Phil got out of the chat before he could psyche himself out of _not_ backtracking from that statement, though his brain was yelling at him to do so. He clicked on the little pencil button instead, selecting **Text** and typing out his message. He had no idea what to write, and stopped and started multiple times before finding a decent finished product that he hoped would come off just the right amount of professional, but not impersonal. Perhaps it was a little too perky, but that was the Phil he wanted to present to the world. A little positivity wouldn't hurt anyone!

_Hey guys! So as you probably know, Dan just announced his 2018 tour! And so I thought what better time to open up that commission box and draw a little for you guys! You can request whatever you like (though please try to keep it PG-13 or so, let's not traumatize the kiddos), and the price will depend on the scale of the drawing, though simple m &g sketches will start at ten USD maybe. So definitely not expensive! So if you want something for Dan to sign at your m&g, or something to commemorate the tour, or even just want to help a guy buy some tickets, my inbox is open! *Please credit me for all work :)*_

Phil inserted a few of his older commissions that garnered a fair amount of notes below, and, with bated breath, pressed **Post**.

“Ah ok i did it! !!! ......aand now we wait,” Phil sent to Flame, still doubtful that anyone would pay for his work. Hey, at least he tried.

“And now we wait,” Flame sent back. “Though i have a feeling that we wont be waiting for long…”

“If you say so” Phil sent back.

“Phil i promise you that your inbox is gonna be overflowing with commissions by morning. And even if its not, u are going to get tickets. I will fucking track howell down myself and make him give you tickets."

Phil laughed out loud. “lol thank you. Ill definitely hold you to that!”

“Oh i really hope you do… ;)” Phil puzzled at that message for a moment before deciding that was a good stopping point, for a little while at least. Phil clicked out of the chat and stared at his wall for a moment. So much was happening, so quickly, and he only hoped it would all have a happy ending. _I guess I’ll just have to wait and see…_

 

***

 

Later, Phil would rewatch the video. And he would pause it right after Dan said "almost a decade now" and he would see the sadness that flitted across his face at the words. And his heart would ache for the lonely man, and he would get the strangest feeling that _he_ was supposed to be there to erase that sadness from marring that beautiful face. But he would shake it off as a foolish fanboy's dreams and continue with his day, the question of the bittersweet words haunting his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than Dan in a decked-out bath!


	4. Chapter 4

Phil's wake from sleep was gentle, peaceful. Like there was nothing at all to be anxious about. Not money, not love, not rejection. Nothing bad could stick to his brain in this state. It all bounced right off.

He lazily blinked open his eyes and drank in the sight before him. The late morning light filtered through the window and softened the light gray of his walls further. The blurry forms of his room were like sand poured through a funnel, crashing on the floor, their edges diluted and fuzzy. He clenched and stretched out his muscles lazily as he shifted from his position on his side to his back, letting his long limbs relax fully. His limbs were floating, the sheets below merely wisps of cloud supporting him with gentle strength. He could lay like this forever.

That is, of course, if Tumblr didn’t exist. Phil let himself relax for a moment longer before, with a soft groan, he turned to his other side and grabbed his phone. He pulled it to his face with his thumb on the home button, letting Touch ID do its work. He could check notifications later. He blinked at it. Phone centimeters from his face, Phil could finally make out the shapes on the screen. He tapped on Tumblr, at the bottom right of the little bar at the bottom for convenience’s sake, and noticed, with enormous shock, the number on the corner of the cute little notification icon.

He tapped on it and saw pages of bolded urls, all with a little message below, usually some variant on “Hey, give me a drawing! I have money!” Phil grinned and went through his profile to his ask box to see it overflowing as well, even more so than usual. He let his head drop with a soft _oomph_ of the pillow and smiled at the ceiling widely and with abandon. He felt the urge to whoop and yell, but his neighbors probably wouldn’t appreciate it.

With a sudden influx of energy, Phil could push off his bed and grab his laptop from where it sat on his desk. He paused with it in his hand, however, unsure of where to go. Eventually, he put it back on the desk and slid into the accompanying chair. He pulled up Tumblr and began to scroll through all his commissions. Excitement boiled up in his stomach, but before he went and actually replied to anyone, he needed to do something.

“Holy fuck I actually got a lot of commissions!! Thank you!!” Phil sent the message to Flame and clicked on the bolded url of a familiar mutual. He had talked with them a few times some time back about their shared interest in indie films and worms before the conversation had petered off. They admitted to him later that they didn't expect him to answer, being as popular as he was, and were too nervous to ruin anything to keep talking. They had sent, _hey, phil! i would love to have a picture of dan and me for him to sign at my m &g in a few months (if ur commission box is still open idk)_.

Phil smiled to himself and began to type out his first reply.

 

***

 

“See i told you!” Phil saw the awaited notification pop up on his phone and tapped on it immediately. No matter how grateful he was for the commissions, sitting and hashing out the specifics of each drawing with every single person that wanted one was draining all the energy out of him.

“I never should have doubted you!”

“Ive never told you this phil but… im actually psychic.”

Phil suddenly noticed the smile that had taken up residence on his face. With how much time it had been spending there recently, it should have started paying Phil rent. “OMG REALLY???”

“No :).”

“way to get a guy’s hopes up there.”

“heh sorry bout that philly boi.”

Phil’s eyes widened. “ok that’s officially cancelled.”

“Well I need some kind of nickname for you!! (yknow so i can pretend i actually have friends…...) Its been long enough no? Philip?”

Now his nose crinkled. “yeah no. Weve been over this..”

“Yeah i know lol. But I don't wanna be just another in your crowd of fans what with all these people pouring in to ask for your attention :( So what should i call you then?”

“i guess you were doing alright earlier with just philly…” Phil blushed and sent a blush-faced emoji to mimic his softly burning cheeks.

“alright then. philly :)”

“:)”

Phil smiled down at his phone as his heart swelled slightly before starting another message. “Hey while i have you here - i just realized now i can actually freak out about the tour with you since i might actually be able to go!!!!!”

“yeah thats right!! do you know what show you’re going to go to yet?”

“well hopefully one that still has vip tix when i get enough money to buy some…” Phil said. “There are two venues sorta close by (ones like thirty minutes, ones like an hour). Blessings of the US I guess. Which one are you going to?”

“I’ll actually be at a few all over the place. My travel plans are CRAZY. ill be driving for days blech.”

“rip good luck. i get carsick so easily i cant even imagine!” Phil grimaced slightly at the thought. Too many times, on even the shortest, few-hours-long road trip, he would have to stop at a gas station or truck stop to throw up what little food he could force down. It wasn’t pretty.

“im kinda lucky actually ive gotten carsick maybe four or five times??? mostly from excessive tumblr scrolling in the car.”

“oh yeah its an epidemic. TOO MANY RELATABLE MEMES!!” Phil cringed at himself as he sent it. God, he was such a nerd sometimes. But at least Flame didn’t seem to mind.

“lmao yes memes will be the death of me,” Flame replied. “you have no idea.”

“tbh the memeing of life is probably the most relatable thing ive *ever* seen??”

“yes spoken like a true internet hobbit” At least Flame was just as awkward as Phil sometimes, though he would surely never admit it.

Just as that message popped up, Phil sent his next one: “i swear dan could film his laundry for like five hours and id love it.”

There was a pause in the conversation. Phil waited and clicked back to his dash, scrolling for a bit until Flame responded, “Haha nice. the fandoms pretty crazy youre probably not alone in that.”

Phil frowned down at his phone. From just the sheer amount of Dan Howell trivia Flame seemed to know whenever they talked about him, he seemed to be a pretty big fan and Phil wasn’t expecting that response. He was expecting more of an agreement, at least. It just felt a little _off_ , whatever that meant. Before he could figure out what he wanted to reply with, another chat from Flame came in. “how much bs u think he could pull like that and people would still watch?”

“honestly wed all pretty much watch anything if it was him who did it, especially during some of those gd dry spells he puts us through”

When Flame just sent back, “lol,” Phil put down his phone and continued to sort out the commission situation. He dragged a hand over his face before slapping it slightly. Grabbing onto the slight pain and letting it pull him back into reality, he began to work. Whatever worked, right?

 

***

 

“oh my god philly??? have you seen it??? im crying”

Phil apprehensively tapped out a quick, “Seen what??” to Flame and hoped to God it wasn’t something bad. Like Dan announced he was quitting Youtube. Or like Phil’s nudes were leaked. Though he had never taken nudes, so he didn’t know where someone might get them from. Oh my God what if they hacked his laptop? Oh God or what if - a notification from Flame came in.

“Just… go to lizzie's blog. tell me when you’ve read it!!”

“oh god okay. should i be scared?”

“erm.” With that stellar recommendation, Phil navigated to Lizzie’s blog and read the title of her latest post: **The Very First Phanfic. HBD Phil!**

" _Oh my God_ ,” Phil said with a hand clasped tightly over his mouth. _She’s kidding, right? She has to be kidding. Is this why we talked about the ship name? Oh, God. No, no, no, she’s obviously joking. Even_ she _doesn't have this kind of strange dedication. It's ironic, right? Like that horrifying one a few days ago?_

But the words on his screen stared him down. _Should I be surprised? I guess she always has been so… Lizzie._ So he grabbed a handful of his nearby popcorn to center himself and settled in to read.

 **Hello all!! I'm back with another BRAND SPANKING NEW fic! Uh, well… sorta. It’s not really the type you’re used to from me… ;) So a super duper sweet amazing guy actually had a birthday recently (yayy!) as I'm sure lots of you already know, and I was writing this for him, but I guess it got delayed a bit (like a week rip sorry bud promise I still love youu!) so here it is today! Anyway, happy happy birthday @amazingsketches love you baby!! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the first-ever “phan”fiction…** <

 

~~~

_Phil had spent the day clickety-clacking away at his old, abused laptop, and he was _dying_ for a change in scenery. He threw it to his side haphazardly, letting it bounce on the plush pillows of his couch, and jumped to his feet. He slid his phone into his back right pocket and grabbed his keys off of the kitchen counter on his way out the door. He had no set destination in mind, but he knew he needed to leave his stuffy apartment. Something out there was drawing him out._

            _He hopped down the steps and out the door of his apartment building. He began to scan his surroundings for a viable destination. A second. And then inspiration struck! And he began to speed walk in the correct direction._

            _Phil pushed through the glass doors of the familiar shop confidently, excited and pleased he had come up with the idea. Bubble tea always put him in a good mood!_

            _He walked a few paces into the store before stopping short. The most beautiful man he had ever seen was behind the counter! And all Phil could do was stare. His brown hair, curled in ringlets on top of his head, long eyelashes fluttering when he blinked... Phil was no longer in control here._

            _Thankfully, he seemed to be occupied with the long line of other customers before Phil, so Phil was able to get away with his ogling…_

           Real Phil kept reading, forcing his eyes down the page. Two thoughts were set on repeat: _Oh, Lizzie, why?_ and _Goddamn I love this woman._

            _“What can I get you?” the man asked. Phil felt his insides seize up and his nervousness take over. He stammered out a quick, “Tea.”_

            _”Sure, baby, but you gotta tell me what kind...” The man smirked and Phil blushed. He was always so awkward around hot guys, and apparently today was no exception._

           “Well,” Real Phil said to himself, “She’s not wrong.”

            _“Uh, c-could I get a, uh,” Phil lost his train of thought, staring into the barista’s eyes. They were brown with little flecks of gold, and Phil felt himself being drawn in to this man, even if they were seeing each other for the first time. He recovered himself with a surreptitious inhale. “Could I get a large green tea, please? With tapioca.”_

            _“Coming right up.” He smiled at Phil and began to make his drink. Phil glanced around him, vaguely recognizing the fact that he was the only customer now. He made his way to wait for his drink. Maybe when the barista came over, he could work up the courage to ask him out! For once._

            _“Here you are,” the other man announced, shaking Phil from his thoughts._

            _“Hey!” Phil blurted out, eyes widening as he realized he spoke, “Umm, do you maybe want to do something with me? Y’know, sometime?” He faded off as he kept speaking, completely mortified. But the guy only smiled._

            _“Well why not now? I get off…” He pulled out a phone from his back pocket, “Ten minutes ago.”_

            _“Y-yeah!” Phil said, suddenly smiling._

            _“I’m Dan, by the way.”_

            _“Phil!”_

            _“Well, Phil, if you’d give me a couple minutes, I’m just gonna tag out and make sure the place doesn’t get robbed while I’m gone, yeah?”_

            _“Yeah, of course!” Phil watched Dan walk away, eyes drifting lower and lower until…_

 

***

Fifteen minutes later, Phil finished the fic. He blinked once. Twice. Trying to jumpstart his now-hazy brain. _She really wasn’t kidding, huh? That was a_ hell _of an experience._ After a few long seconds of shell-shocked staring, Phil realized he needed to actually do something. Phil liked and reblogged the fic, adding a caption that he hoped would be funny, something vague about hating Lizzie forever, as well as some loving tags. Lizzie truly was quite a girl. Flattery fueled Phil and this whole… thing, whatever it was, was enough to last him the rest of the year. He then reloaded the page on Lizzie's main and watched new posts pop up out of curiosity. The top one of which was, in fact, the same fic, but apparently reblogged from someone whose URL Phil didn’t recognize. He scrolled down to see their comment, which was just a simple, “Fuck.”

 _Yup, pretty much._ Phil kept scrolling quickly and saw a re-reblog from someone with a very familiar URL. He scrolled eagerly to see the reply. Though he wasn't really sure if he wanted to read it or not.

“oi he’s mine.” Phil almost fell out of his chair. That was his first reaction? To all of that? “Oi he’s mine?” Phil blushed fire-engine red. But then an embarrassing thought came in: _Jesus Christ, Phil, what are you doing? He was talking about Dan, y’know, the hot guy you bonded over being a fan of? God, Phil._ Phil grimaced and kept reading anyway.

“Lol you wish honey. We all do,” Lizzie had replied. _Exactly. See, Phil?_ But then, Phil kept reading. And the next reblog simpy read: “you think im talking about dan? ;)”

Lizzie had just replied with a blank-faced emoji, which seemed to sum up Phil’s emotions pretty accurately at the moment. _Umm. Does that mean - he said he - and_ queer _\- and he said, he said -_ no. _Phil, calm the fuck down! See if he brings it up himself. Don’t get ahead of yourself. You know he couldn't... Right. He couldn't. Not for you. Just don't think about it._ He crammed down those particular thoughts and focused on the matter at hand - his friend just wrote him a fucking fanfic! _And it wasn't a squeamish one!_

“OH MY GOD,” Phil sent Flame quickly, not expecting a rapid response.

But a moment later, Flame sent, “I KNOW RIGHT?”

Phil smiled and got to typing, “Like im flattered but i mean… that was like !!!!!”

“lol yeah i wasn’t expecting like… all that. It would’ve been fine as just like fluff right?”

“yeah haha though u have to admit the smut wasn’t all that bad…” Phil sent an accompanying smirky face.

“lol yeah i guess not. She seems pretty damn good at that bit - THAT I was not expecting”

"Right? With her !s and :)s and everything? But TRUUUST me - i've known her a long time and damn that girl can write some porn. have you never read her stuff?"

Flame's responses grew slower. Like he was considering his words more carefully than normal. "Gotta give her that at least, I guess. But I mean you're her friend?? i mean if ur cool with it lol"

Every once and a while, Phil's blatant honesty got him into trouble. A rising feeling in his gut told him this was about to be one of those times. And yet, like an idiot, he persisted. “Well maybe the porn didnt have to be there but tbh Im kinda sorta glad it was... and i mean not to sound _too_ creepy or anything but I'm not exactly gonna pass up an opportunity to *fuck dan howell*, even if it’s in a fic lol,” Phil sent without thinking.

As he hit send, a wave of regret passed over him. He squeezed his eyes together and rapidly typed something out in an attempt at damage control, “oh god that sounded so creepy im sorry.” He was so fucking awkward. He shouldn't even try. And right after Flame had said what he said?  _Shit._

When Flame didn’t respond after over a minute of staring at his computer like it held the answers to the universe, Phil decided that _now would be a good time to sink into the floor. Even if Flame couldn’t see it._

But instead of doing that, Phil just grabbed a pillow off his bed and squeezed it in his fists as hard as he could. Sometimes that helped when he was feeling overwhelmed. Now, however, was not one of those times. So Phil made his way to the kitchen.

He scrounged around but was unable to find pretty much anything that resembled a meal. Strengthening his resolve, he decided… to go out. It was still early, after all.

Feeling like he was on some sort of secret spy mission, Phil took his wallet, keys, phone, and a pack of gum, and strode out the door. Just in time, he remembered to lock his door before trekking downstairs and out of his building.

With a strange mix of emotions, he realized he was mimicking the “phanfic”. But he had gone this far, so why not keep going? So he pulled out his phone, barely noticing the notifications, and searched directions to the nearest bubble tea shop. Coincidentally enough, there was one just a few minutes away. So, with cool air wafting his face with the comforting scent of the city, Phil set off on his journey. _I wonder if Lizzie searched my place on Google Maps as research. Eh, wouldn't put it past her..._

After a harrowing experience of dodging taxis and pedestrians alike, Phil finally made it. He glanced up at the bright rainbow sign reading “Bubbleology” and pushed through the door, feeling right at home, even if he had never been to this particular location before. His stomach rumbled and all eyes turned to him. Or so it felt. He suddenly regretted not eating sooner.

He shyly got in line behind the one other customer in the shop and subconsciously tried to make himself smaller in stature. Not an easy task, seeing as he was over six foot, but he still tried out of habit. There was no one behind the counter and Phil decided to pull out his phone.

He clicked on the little Tumblr icon and watched it pop up. Without even giving himself any time for scrolling, he immediately tapped into his and Flame’s chat. All he saw was his last message. Flame hadn’t responded. Phil let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

But then suddenly two responses from Flame popped up beneath Phil’s last message. _Fucking Tumblr mobile..._

“lol dw it’s not that creepy,” Flame had sent. Phil didn’t know the exact time, but the next message came somewhere between his last message and Phil’s stop at Bubbleology. “ok yeah it’s a little creepy but i dont judge lol.”

A blushing, embarrassed Phil smiled down at his phone, typing out, “thanks haha,” before realizing suddenly that the person in front of him had disappeared and the cashier was waiting for him. He took a step forward, almost disappointed. It’s not like he really expected the person behind the counter to be Dan, but some little part of him was hoping. And the embarrassment from that, even if he was the only one to ever know it, made him blush even harder.

He squeaked out his order, large with lots of sugar and coffee and tapioca, forked over some money, and hurried away to the pick-up area. He waited for his drink, scrolling away on Tumblr. And when it finally came, he went back to a little corner of the shop and sipped at his tea. He immediately went to Flame and his chat.

“Hey guess where i am right now?”

A response came quick, even though it had been a while. “Where?”

“... at a bubble tea place…”

“oh my god phil you do realize that was just a fanfic right?? Dans not actually gonna be there lol.”

“haha yeah i know but i mean a boy can dream yeah?”

“yeah i guess so...?”

“besides i think im gonna cave and go to a starbucks next door anyway. im dying for a blueberry muffin.”

“mm yum that sounds great. im so jealous im stuck in meetings till four :(”

“oof. ill eat tons of sugar for you. Transfer them to you through our Internet Friend Mind Meld.” God, Phil was such a huge dork.

“ty ly bb.” Phil froze. Did Flame just… No, he couldn’t have meant it that way. Phil was just projecting his own feelings onto him. That's what he always did. There was no way. Flame just had a weird way of speaking sometimes.

Pushing his racing thoughts aside, Phil stood and left the little shop. He made his way all the way over to the nearby Starbucks before realizing his phone had buzzed. He pulled it out.

“hey btw whats the name of that bubble tea place?”

“oh it’s called bubbleology i think. It's pretty good - you should check it out!”

“yeah i think i will if i can ever escape from these meetings haha. thanks!” Phil pocketed his phone once more and got in line for his muffin. He began to ponder. He would start the commissions tomorrow, but the self-inflicted pressure from having to get his income from them was stressing him out so much that he knew he needed to procrastinate on them, at least for a day. He needed something to draw, something to rekindle his passion for drawing and tell him he could still do it, even if there was some pressure.

He glanced around him. _Write what you know, right? Err, draw, I guess._

Phil inched forward in line and ordered his snack. Warmed, of course. And after he had given the barista money and walked over to the crowd, all waiting for their orders, after he had settled down at the bar by the window, he began to doodle a sketch onto a napkin. And after the sketch was complete and he left the shop, after he had made the journey back home, he sat down at his desk and began to work on the line art.

He decided on watercolors to capture the feel he was going for and heaved out his clear tub of loose paints and a palette. He squeezed out some water from his water brush to wet the bristles and began to paint in broad strokes. He twisted his wrist elegantly, paint flowing onto the page in smooth lines.

A Troye Sivan playlist pulled up on his laptop next to a few of his many Dan reference photos for in between layers, Phil settled in and did what he did best.

 

***

 

Hours later, he was finally satisfied. He sat back and looked at the finished painting. The colors faded into each other and swirled around the paper in soft patterns. Dan was looking to the side, smiling at something in the distance, a twinkle in his eye. And in his hand was a cup of pastel green bubble tea, half full. His curly hair was wild as always, and one tiny curl had fallen into his forehead. The edges of the painting freely fanned out, the pastels whirling onto the white page around Dan's figure.

Phil grinned and sighed. _Finally done. Now there are really no excuses for not doing the commissions, Phil._

Phil decided for this one, taking a picture with his camera would be the best way to post it. He hunted around in his apartment for a while for it and returned to his desk. He lined up the shot and took it. _Easy._ Phil looked at the picture on the camera screen and shook his head. _No, not quite right._

Half an hour and countless shots of the same painting, tools disappearing and reappearing in the shot, Phil decided to go with his first picture. He ejected the SIM card, and after some fighting with his computer, was able to upload the picture onto his laptop. He posted it with the caption, “Green Tea and Breezy Days” (he never claimed to be great at naming his work), tagged Dan, and finally closed his laptop. Phil yawned. He should probably get in at least a few hours of editing before going to sleep. And queue a few more asks. He loved having as many followers as he did - he truly did! - but sometimes it was all a bit much. But, no matter. Editing, asks, then sleep. _Sleep_...

 

***

 

Hours passed. Phil sequestered himself with just his laptop and clicked and dragged and listened until he had finished all of the projects work had given him. And emailed to offer his services for more. Phil knew he could be incredibly productive if he tried, and he was always looking for ways to increase his income, leading to his inbox being filled around the clock with projects he had volunteered for. Sheila had always remarked that Phil was a godsend in that regard. He was just biding his time until his next promotion, which was no doubt coming soon.

Though, of course, Phil was only human. For every hour or so of work, he always rewarded himself with some vigorous Tumblr and FaceTiming one or two friends, online or otherwise. Lizzie was usually worked in somewhere in there. They truly were great friends - she was his first follower, and they had hung out (virtually) ever since. He was lucky to have her. (Truth be told, Phil was lucky for a lot of things, especially that she was closer to his age than some of the other members of the fandom. That couldn't have gone over too well.) He always made sure to FaceTime her once and a while, along with the few texts squeezed in a few times a day. Working from home most days kept him from easy daily social interaction and he didn’t want to lose the friends he had. That couldn't be great for his mental health.

Phil shook himself gently, dispersing his thoughts and unfixing his eyes. He'd been staring at one point for about a minute now. He needed a break. He couldn't resist checking his phone. Phil read the top notification.

“ _Philip Michael whatever-the-fuck-your-last-name-is_!!!! Check Instagram! Right fucking now! Oh my God! Now! OHMYGOD!” A notification from Lizzie grabbed his attention. Well with an invitation like that, Phil could hardly not check Instagram. He grabbed his phone and realized that the Instagram notification was only one of many, including, he saw with a flurry of emotion, an exciting one from Tumblr: “Good news: danielhowell is posting again!”

He opened his well-frequented Instagram app and searched for Dan’s account. After typing in the letter “d”, it popped up and he tapped on it, noticing the blue text below his name indicating that he had a new post. He quickly opened the latest picture, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw.

It was a close up of Dan in some sort of shop. The background was blurred through photo editing, it seemed, and Phil could only make out a few hazy shapes in the background that appeared to be tables. Dan looked… breathtaking. His beautiful brown eyes were filled with mirth, their corners crinkled, and he was looking off to the side at something far off out of frame. His lips were quirked in a mischievous smile and his high cheekbones glowed with highlight. A cute little curl was placed jauntily on his forehead.

“Wait,” Phil breathed, scrolling down to see when exactly Dan posted the picture. “Holy shit.”

Clasped tightly in Dan’s hand, with the very familiar rainbow logo facing the camera, was a half-full cup of green bubble tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than Phil gazing at Dan oh-so-lovingly while he's recording an ig story! :')


	5. Chapter 5

_No. What? Coincidence. Right? Yeah. Yeah. Definitely._ Phil’s breath stuttered and he fell back in his chair, unable to believe himself. That couldn’t be possible, right? _But what other explanation could there be?_

Phil gasped dramatically to himself like an old-fashioned Southern belle, bringing a hand to his chest. _I’m psychic! Just like my grandma!_ He chuckled to himself but stopped immediately when he realized he was, in fact, still alone. _More likely, he just wanted some bubble tea and ended up taking a picture while he was there. Or maybe someone_ working for him _found my painting - it_ had _gotten a shitload of notes by that point - and planted the idea in his head. Maybe he even did it because he knew people saw my work and wanted to stir up some excitement in the fandom. It’s probably not a big deal! Nope. Not at all. No siree._

Phil nodded to himself, cementing the idea in his brain. There was no point in getting his hopes up. It was _definitely_ not a big deal. No, no, not at all. But that one little hopelessly optimistic voice in Phil’s brain whispered something different. Very much so.

But he brushed it aside, preferring to keep it on the back burner. He was never one to get his hopes up for something that may never happen. Too often his heart would be broken; it was inevitable. And Phil wasn’t going to let just anyone do that! Only those he loved and let in had the opportunity to break his heart. _So why would I set myself up that way?_ This was his philosophy. It had been so for a number of years. And only now was he slowly realizing that letting someone in might not be such a terrible idea.

 _Wait, that wasn’t what you were thinking about. The picture._  

By now, Phil knew his inbox had to be full of asks screaming about Dan’s post, and he had already had to swipe away plenty of messages doing the same from the top of his screen. He should probably get to those.

So he stole one last look at the post, leaned back in his chair, and got to typing.

 

> **PHILDIDYOUSEEDANSIGOHMYGODAREYOUALIVE -mildlysmolderingdan**

 

Phil smiled. Yep, exactly what he was expecting. 

 

> " _YESOMGWHATTTT”_

 

He’d have plenty of more asks to answer where he could fanboy in more detail. He would never _not_ answer an ask unless it was rude or creepy. (And sometimes he pretended he didn't receive chain posts if he got them multiple times, but who could blame him for that?) He felt slighted when other blogs didn’t answer his and when he reached three thousand followers a year back, he vowed to himself to always answer. They had taken time out of their day to send an ask, so how could he not answer it? Though it certainly took a while sometimes…

He tagged the post and went back to his inbox. They should really get that ask-tagging thing fixed.

 

> **Umm not gonna say Dan’s a secret amazingsketches follower but… DANS A SECRET AMAZINGSKETCHES FOLLOWER -rawrimadanosaurxd**

 

Phil just responded with the sideways-looking eye emoji and was done with it after a few tags, including, of course, “confirmed”, “hell yeah”, and a handful of other ostensibly ironic self-indulgent phrases that made that one annoying little voice in his head gleeful. He hastily shut it down, however, reminding himself that it was a joke. Phil scrolled through a few more, thinking of answers. He wanted to wait a bit before answering them to keep from clogging his followers’ dashes, and a few words didn’t seem like big enough of a deal to purposefully schedule. A few, however, he couldn’t resist replying to.

>  
> 
> **umm dan copy much? god *huff* -sevenminutesindevan**
> 
>  
> 
> **PHILIP MICHAEL WHAT IS THIS MADNESS -dantasticlizzie**
> 
>  
> 
> **When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy! Then send to the last ten people in your notifications, anonymously or not. You never know who might benefit from spreading positivity! -Anonymous**
> 
>  
> 
> **oml did dan just?? -Anonymous**
> 
> _"dan just!!"_
> 
>  
> 
> **wait why is everyone freaking out? people are talking about you? ?? -Anonymous**
> 
> _“check dan’s latest ig post then check mine.........!?!!?!?”_
> 
>  
> 
> **God ofc dan decided that YOU were gonna be the one he'd fucking look at wtf ugh idek why u have as many folowers as u do tumblrs so fucked up and now for whatever stupid reason dan believes it too what the fuck is wrong with this site -Anonymous**
> 
> _Deleted._
> 
>  
> 
> **PHIL IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU BUT ALSO VERY CONFUSED HELPP -danhowellbaby**
> 
> _“ME TOO ITS OK WE CAN BE CONFUSED TOGETHER”_
> 
>  
> 
> **hey, hey, phil? umm... WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?? -assielassie**
> 
> _“Your guess is as good as mine!!”_

 

_Oh, fuck it!_

Phil cheerfully went ahead and clogged up his followers’ dashes.

 

***

 

Later that night, after Phil had spent hours in the aftermath of that photo, texting friends and freaking out on group chat after group chat, including a few Discord servers, he ended up lying in bed, staring at nothing. He was alone for the first time in too long, isolated. And his brain began to wander.

 He had joked about Dan being a follower of his several times, but he never let himself give any thought to the idea. It seemed like a pipe dream, something that existed only in the realm of fanfiction, and perhaps it was. And yet, Phil couldn’t shake the feeling that _this_ was the thing that he got to have. The thing that finally went right for him. Sure, in reality, he was one of the billions of others exactly like him, in times past and in times to come. But in Phil’s lifetime, this one post, and the incredible notion that Daniel James Howell knew who he was, set him apart from the rest.

  _That’s a bit dramatic, Phil. He’s just a guy. You wouldn’t be thinking this about your Aunt Edna._

  _But Dan isn’t my Aunt Edna,_ another voice whispered back, _He’s someone special._

  _Right. Phil, what makes him so very special other than the simple fact that he was able to get lucky enough to make it big on Youtube, and smart enough to exploit it?_

  _I don’t know exactly. But there’s just... just something so unique in him. That kinda seems to be in me sometimes, as well._

  _Pretty damn narcissistic if that’s why you like him so much._

  _No, no! Like there’s a rare kind of_ energy _that flows through him. I can see it sometimes, in ebbs in the energy of livestreams, and little moments in gaming videos, where he lets go of the heightened personality he’s adopted for the camera and just kinda_ is _. And it does resonate in me, as well. I feel it sometimes. Dan, he’s like. Like that particular familiar feeling in the back of my mind when I conjure memories of home. I feel like if I could somehow reach far enough, my fingers would brush against it._

  _Wow, that’s both creepy and poetic. I guess. Maybe it’s just creepy. Phil, you’ve got to learn to stop talking to yourself and just sleep. Maybe you should get a therapist or a roommate or_ something _\- a dog maybe - so you have someone to vent all this shit to other than the detached voices in your head._

  _Or a boyfriend. That’d be nice, too. But that doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon._

 Phil dismissed the thoughts, not willing to let them take him over tonight. He rolled over and snuggled into his pillow, tucking the blanket around him through some impressive thrashing motions. Slowly breathing out through his nose, he tried to clear his mind. It proved to be futile, however, and Phil began to form a blurry mental image of what could be.

 Dan, in person, looking right at Phil. Pulling him close by the hips and looking into his eyes with a fiery heat. Phil melting into him. “God, I’ve waited too fucking long for this, Phil,” Fantasy Dan says. “You have no fucking idea.”

 “I think I have some,” he pictures himself responding. Dan smiles and his eyes flick down to Phil’s lips.

 Phil smiles back and leans in slowly, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Happy tremors of electricity shake Phil to his core and flicker through his body. After a blissful moment, he leans back and looks up at Dan.

 He watches Dan’s beautiful eyes flutter open and look down at him before he crashes their lips together again, pushing Phil back a step into a wall that suddenly appears in the fantasy world.

 Phil gasps and grabs at Dan’s hair as his head lowers to his neck. And suddenly, hands are at Phil’s shirt, tugging it up. Phil lets it be pulled over his head and thrown to the ground. The background is a blur. The only things in focus are their moving bodies, pressed tightly together.

Dan looks at Phil’s naked chest for a moment appreciatively before latching back onto Phil. His hands roam Phil’s chest and Phil’s own wander over the skin underneath his.

Phil shifted his head on his pillow, and the world behind his eyelids distorted into pure black as his fantasy became his dream.

  

***

 

Phil woke up the next morning with a certain unfortunate situation to take care of. He looked down at himself incredulously.

_Great. Well, that’s not fucking desperate at all._

Phil groaned and let his head fall back onto his pillow.

  

***

 

Fresh from the shower, his hair plastered down on his head, Phil meandered into his kitchen. He found an old abandoned box of granola hiding in the back of the pantry and started to munch on it as he thought about what he needed to do that day.

Firstly, he needed to check his emails from work. He was sure Sheila would have something new for him to work on; she always did. Maybe today would be a good day to go into work, to get a break from the monotony of always being at home. _And God knows I could use a distraction from myself. I’m going to go crazy if I don’t stop thinking about that picture._

 _I should also probably keep making commissions._ Phil’s anxiety rose at the thought. _Maybe tomorrow._ Phil took a deep breath. _No. No, Phil, you need to do this. Sure there are a lot, but you do have time—if you start this now. Just one at a time. Just focus on one at a time. One at a time. There’s no pressure. Relax. Breathe._

Phil nodded to himself. He’d get a few commissions done today. But before that, he should probably work at some more reliable income.

Phil put away the box of granola, the contents severely depleted, and quickly returned to his laptop. He pulled up his email quickly, and began to wade through all of the emails sent his way. _Some from work, some from friends, Tumblr… Oh, _Brandon_ sent me something. _

Intrigued, Phil clicked on that one. He hadn’t talked with any of his high school buddies in _years_ , and for Brandon especially to reach out to him, in an email no less, was unexpected to say the least. Brandon had always been the odd one out, always pushing them to do weirder, crazier things. Though instead of that making him the black sheep, he seemed to think that it made him the leader of the group. And to him, being the leader meant being able to force his friends to do even wilder things. The rest of them usually went along with it, but Phil had his qualms about some of the more extreme activities. Even though in reality they were all secretly huge nerds, Phil was the “prude” of the group, and when he saw the subject line of the email, his stomach dropped.

  

> **BACHELOR PARTY!!!**

 

_Oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter was *quite something* but the next one's coming soon and it's more regularly scheduled programming. Kudos and comments make me happier than Capita£ester draining every single last penny out of me!


	6. Chapter 6

> **Hey fuckers!**

Phil rolled his eyes. What a start. But he really shouldn’t have been surprised. When it came to Brandon, Phil found himself rolling his eyes a lot. Though it had been a long time since he had felt this very Brandon-specific feeling.

> **I’m biting the bullet soon (y’all should’ve gotten invites by now. I think. shit tbh idk actually that’s em’s thing lol) and finally becoming mr. em fucking brandshaw (cant wait to not fuck again kill me now lmaoo). And i gotta get one last great ass party in before it becomes fucking tv dinners and shit idk yall pray for me. So yall better prepare yourselves for the GREATEST FUCKING BACHELOR PARTY OF ALL TIME!!! And im inviting literally fucking EVERYONE yall this it gonna be fucking LIT. Don’t trust any of yall fuckers to do it for me, so im planning all of this shit. (thanks for your help yall lol) So i was sitting down, listening to em drone on about some shit i did like always lol when i came up with something fucking AMAZING------PARTY BUS!!! Fuck yeah!! Now yall shut up, this shit is gonna be LEGENDARY istg. Im talking strippers and drinking and yknow… whatever else we decide on ;))). (but dont you get your gay ass hopes up phil i mean FEMALE strippers loll sorry bud)**

Phil rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. Yup. Time after time, Brandon proved himself to be exactly who he was: a walking, talking stereotype––sometimes he seemed like an honest-to-God caricature of himself. It was puzzling, but Phil found himself hardly caring after all their time apart.

> **So NONE OF YALL goddamn idiots better back out cause i promise yall gonna regret it if you do!! When is it you ask?? ((Well i forgot to do this till now so…)) next saturday!! Not like next saturday, next next saturday. i know yall know what i mean!!**

Phil knew what he meant. Though he wasn’t sure why Brandon needed to say “y’all” so many times. Sure, he was raised in Alabama, but Phil didn’t know anyone else that insisted on repeating the word so many times. And he didn't even have an accent! Maybe he just enjoyed his "Southern charm" as he called it as the one thing that set him apart from the hordes of other sweaty white hetero men out there destined to live nonessential, meaningless lives. Phil blinked. _Damn, Phil. Maybe you need to revisit some stuff. Or at least have a full-blown crisis and get it all over with._

> **idk what other things y’all need to know about this thing so like hmu if you need.**

Phil huffed out through his nose before reluctantly clicking **Reply**. Worst comes to worst, he could sit there and nurse a beer for a few hours while the guys made fools of themselves. He could use a party, he supposed. That’s what his friends said, at least. Whatever.

> **_I’ll be there. Congrats, man!_ **

Pushing that aside, he focused on a more urgent task: money.

_I should probably get dressed._

Phil let out another small huff and stomped to his closet.

 

***

 

“Hey! Sheila!”

A familiar face swiveled towards the black-haired noodle jogging down the hallway to her. Her round, kind eyes crinkled as he approached. Phil tried to decipher their color today. It was a game he played with himself. Every interaction he had with her, her eyes changed color. Some days they were a vivid green that rivaled Phil’s many plants (on their good days), and some days they were the inviting color of molten chocolate. Today they seemed more on the latter side, with bits of gold and green thrown in for good measure. She was one of the most beautiful women Phil had ever seen. At first glance, she may not have seemed to be so. Her facial features were nondescript and not unusual, but her gorgeous auburn hair and charming soul made her seem almost otherworldly. It was a shame they were both only interested in their same gender.

“Phil! What’s up?” she asked happily. “Glad to see you up and out of the house!”

“Yeah, I figured it was about time,” Phil said with a chuckle. “And hey, working here, at our amazing offices, is always fun!”

Sheila raised an eyebrow. Rouge didn’t have the most unwelcoming offices of all time, but it was rather bland in there. And compared to Phil’s hectic apartment, crammed full of goodies and knick-knacks, which she had seen at a little work get-together he had thrown a few months back, it was downright deafening in its monotony.

“I get to talk to the most beautiful woman in the world,” Phil continued with a wink.

Sheila laughed. “Damn, Phil, you’re really laying it on thick. What do you want?”

Phil shifted from foot to foot. “Uh, I was wondering if that desk is still open or…?”

“Phil,” Sheila admonished with a smile. “You know that's always open for you.”

The man in question smiled back at her. “Yeah, okay… Uh, thanks!” That whole "human-ing" thing was more difficult some days than others.

He turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks, “Oh, right.”

Phil pivoted. Sheila was still standing there, obviously waiting for him to turn around. She knew her friend all too well.

“There was something I ran into when I was working on that project last night.”

“The unknown-name pool one?”

“Nah, I finished that a few days ago. I meant the basketball one with all those hideous puns.” Phil chewed on his cheek. “There’s this weird gap in the middle of it, like the camera cut out or something? I probably just didn’t get all the footage. I don’t know. But it’s kinda clunky as is, so I’d love to get the footage of that bit.”

“Yeah, okay. That’s strange. I’ll talk to Tom, yeah?”

This gave Phil a pause. Tom was in charge of Phil’s destiny. Or at least, that was what it seemed like. He was the head of most of the technological areas of the company, and if he wanted you gone, you were gone before you could say “blowjob.” And it certainly didn’t make matters any better that he was infamous for a violent temper. Phil, understandably enough, trod carefully around him, and the thought of him handling his footage and perhaps thinking that it was Phil’s thought was enough to send his already-present anxiety through the roof. But the company's and Phil's own standards for perfection and shot diversity called for the missing footage.

He just managed to force out, “Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Sheila winked at him, probably feeling his uncomfortable air and trying to calm him down. She winked more than anyone else Phil knew, but somehow, it was charming. Sometimes when he was talking with her, he felt it rubbing off on him and found himself mid-wink.

He smiled back, willing himself to let go of the tension holding him straight as a needle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he knows it’s not your fault,” she said with a soft smile. She knew his struggles all too well.

Phil laughed softly at himself. “Thanks, Sheila. You’re the best. Like, the absolute best. Greatest of all time.”

Sheila laughed, “Anytime, Phil.”

He smiled and started to leave again when he heard, “And, Phil?”

Sheila smirked, “I know.”

Phil’s grin lasted for hours. Sheila could brighten up any day, with just a few words. And whereas, when he first started he might’ve wiped the smile off his face as soon as he pulled out his laptop out of fear of embarrassment (everyone there knew _exactly_ what he was doing and smiling while watching porn was questionable to his insecure mind), he let himself enjoy the happiness that came from talking to her. She really had saved him. Whether she knew it or not. As an introverted nerd with a little smidge of undiagnosed social anxiety (even if he tried to hide it with all his might), he didn’t exactly get out too much. And she made it remarkably easy - an impressive feat.

Phil hummed to himself and got to finishing up his project.

 

***

 

Phil passed the next week and a half or so the same way. He’d go into work in the morning, spend most of the day there, with a sandwich and coffee break during lunch, come home, and work on commissions. He was getting through a fair bit! Much more than he anticipated. And though it was rough at first, keeping himself on such a difficult schedule, he found himself growing in his abilities as the days went on. Not to say it wasn’t incredibly taxing, of course. But Phil found himself learning to enjoy the feeling of productivity.

But after keeping himself working around the clock for all that time, he needed a break.

So one day, after a particularly productive day at work, he decided to go home and nap, something he had not done since college when he was so stressed about exams he passed out the moment he made it to his dorm.

On the way home, however, he was held up at the office. The parking lot, to be specific. His coworker, Jeremy, whom Phil had become much closer within the past few days, offered his phone number and received a promise to call him later.

And although Phil knew for a fact that they’d never be anything but platonic, and he wasn’t particularly interested in the other man, he was overjoyed at the concept of a new relationship, solely platonic or not. It didn’t exactly come easy to him, and Jeremy was someone whom he’d love to be close with.

He smiled all the way home.

Mentally exhausted, but still on a productivity high, the last thing Phil needed was another surprise. Or perhaps it was exactly what he needed to keep this great day going.

But whether he needed it or not, that was exactly what happened. His laptop under his arm, phone a comforting presence in his pocket, he unlocked the door and flopped onto the couch. He threw an arm over his face but peeked out over it at the window behind him and the little cactus sitting on the windowsill.

_Hmm. Larry’s starting to look a little gray._

Phil glanced around his apartment (at least the bits he could see; an open floor plan wasn’t exactly in his budget) at his little plants stationed all around. He frowned. They were all showing signs of weariness, much like Phil himself. He made a mental note to water them. And then he made a mental note to stop making mental notes and to write them down somewhere so that he wouldn’t forget them.

As expected, he immediately forgot about both mental notes when he yanked out his phone from beneath him and checked the notifications.

_Already? What happened to “four videos a year?”_

A heady giggle escaped Phil as he clicked on the video link.

But when it pulled up, the first thing he saw was only not the dimpled face of one Daniel Howell, but instead, he was joined by two strangers as they pushed a large black box across the floor. The shot immediately cut to Dan lounging on his sofa like Kate Winslet in _Titanic_ , and Phil couldn’t do anything to stop a giddy feeling from rising within his gut.

The video passed in a blink. And Phil knew for a fact that this would be a video they would be talking about within the fandom for a _very_ long time. It was a vlog! A legitimate, honest-to-God vlog where Dan took his phone around with him and filmed his life. That, in and of itself, was extraordinary, but the content of the video was enough to make Phil’s emotional high last for days.

He had just started the rehearsal process for his show and provided so many teasers it made Phil’s head whirl with the possibilities. The editing had obviously taken a long time, as there were so many little jumps to different parts of the show, and Dan had to explain away everything by himself.

_By himself._

That strange feeling popped up again. Dan never appeared to be lonely, and he took great care of his channel himself, but. Maybe it was just Phil’s hopeless fanboy nature, but he felt such a strong pull to Dan. Just to hug him. Or laugh about props with him. Something. Sometimes Dan’s videos ended up coming off a little… fake. Less so through his "video persona" but more his reactions to things. They felt scripted, edited. It wasn’t often someone else was in the shot with him, and…

Phil didn’t know exactly what he thought it was. But recently, Dan’s laughs had been hollow, empty. He didn't pull stupid faces at the camera like he used to. When no one responded when he came out for his adorable little romper fashion show, he almost seemed _defeated_.

Phil was definitely reading too far into it. It was pathetic, even, the way he was analyzing him so deeply, searching for the meaning he wanted. No, he was far better off forgetting about it.

He readily got to work, quickly sketching out a picture of Dan at the piano. He had always loved it when he played (more so than he probably should have; its frequent occurrences in his fantasies were worrying) and it had been a dream for as long as he's been subscribed to hear him play in person - which, Phil realized with a start, might be possible now, thanks to Flame!

Flame. Maybe he could ask Flame. Talk to him about his musings and see if he was alone in thinking it.

“Heya. Getting it out of the way cause i mean its so totally obvious - dans new video: perfection. Like literally perfection. Ngl im not gonna stop watching it over and over and over until my phone breaks or something.”

The reply was immediate, as always, but it still shocked Phil. “Hey dont do that!! Then we wont talk :(”

Phil’s eyes widened. He had always been the one to say comments like that.

He let his brave side take over for a moment. “Dw dw id still have my computer! Do you really think id let u go that easily? ;)”

The next response took a little longer, but Phil refused to exit out of the app.

“:)”

Flame quickly sent another message, as Phil knew he would. “hey wait whats up? Getting it out of the way?? what do u wanna talk about love”

 _"Love?” Oh God. You're fucking kidding me. He’s gonna make me combust where I sit and then I’ll never even be able to go to the show, after all._ Something shifted in Phil. He liked it.

“Ok so tell me if this is like super weird or a crazy stretch (prob) or im being stupid or something but like has dan seemed a little like *off* lately?” Phil chewed at his cheek.

“off?” was all Flame sent back.

“Yeah. i mean like the past few months. Maybe longer than that idk. he just sorta feels off-kilter and like. I have pretty limited experience with depression and stuff i know but? He kinda just doestn seem like himself. Sad maybe”

Phil immediately felt bad and kept typing frantically. “Ack okay im sorry idk. Maybe im projecting my own loneliness onto him heh.”

“Dont be lonely philly! You have me!” Flame was really going for it today, huh?

“Not really.” The words were sent before Phil even realized what was happening. _Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit._

There was a pause. A long one. Then Flame sent a single frowny face. Neither of them knew what to say.

He quickly followed it up. “I do promise well meet eventually ok? Im just not ready i guess. Sorry philly i know u could be spending time with irl people or something instead.”

Phil’s jaw dropped. How did this conversation get to this point? And why would Flame say that? Didn’t he know… No. He mustn't have. Phil barely even had a handle on his feelings, how could Flame?

He was quick to respond. “No no no im sorry i didnt mean to say that. Lol youd think my no filter problem thing wouldnt translate to texting. But hey!! I PROMISE you theres no one else id rather be talknig to. Cross my heart and all that!! It really doesnt matter if i meet you or not ur my friend :) (tho i wouldnt mind seeing your handsome face maybe)”

Phil groaned at himself. First, he made a dumbass comment and now he was calling him handsome? How did Flame even tolerate him with all his bumbling about?

“How do you know im handsome? For all you know im some cave dwelling 90 yo librarian with thirty hamsters.”

Phil thought about it for a moment, a slight tinge to his cheeks. But before he could come up with an acceptable answer, his phone revealed a second message from Flame.

_How fast does he type? Damn._

“But anyway i kinda see what you mean. It has to get hard. He's alone after all. And we introverts can relate huh”

Phil frowned, upset at even the notion of it. “no ones really alone!”

“But it really fucking feels liek it sometimes.”

Phil stopped, confused at the direction the conversation was taking. What was he arguing for? _He_ certainly understood being lonely. Before he could help himself, he was typing out an honest reply. Not the one he wished so desperately he could believe, not the one he spouted and preached, but the one truest to him, as eloquently as he could. Using his English studies and his several decades of learning the language, combined with the heightened vocabulary of a grown, adult man his age, he crafted the aptest response to the situation at hand: “big fucking mood.”

“yeah.”

A little confused by what had just transpired, and completely wiped out, Phil threw his phone to the ground, snuggled into the plush little couch and fell asleep.

 

***

 

Later, Phil was, as expected, at his computer. He had woken up only a few minutes into his nap and decided it was time to work on some commissions. The thrill of finishing a piece was already incredible, and combine that with how much the buyer usually liked it - and the fact that he was getting _paid_ for it - it was absolutely amazing. Even if it sometimes sucked to work that much. And Phil realized now just how skewed his price rates were, anyway. He wasn’t getting _nearly_ enough for how much effort (and art supplies) he poured into every piece. And he had thought he was being too expensive. But there was such an influx of commissions that it hardly mattered. And he couldn’t change the price on all of them now.

But, as always, he couldn’t help but procrastinate. He’d been doing surprisingly well, after all! And he deserved some browsing time.

After his dash had failed to produce more than one or two new posts after another refresh, Phil realized he needed something else to do.

 _Why do I follow these many people if_ none _of them ever have any content?_

Phil clicked over to amazingsketches to check how many blogs he followed.

_1,031 blogs. 1,031 blogs and none of them have anything when I click refresh? That can't be right._

Phil made a mental note to do some cleaning out later. A thought niggled at the back of his brain.

_Wasn’t there some mental note earlier that I forgot to do?_

Phil poked at the thread for a moment before giving up with a sigh. He couldn’t remember for the life of him.

In the end, Phil ended up pulling up Dan’s latest video (“A Week in the Life of Dan”) and scrolling through his art tag for a few minutes. Because he could. And it was interesting to watch his talents grow over the short period of time he was on the site. Phil knew vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d be getting absolutely no work done tonight. But he could pretend he didn’t as he murmured to himself every time he restarted the video, “Gotta work soon… maybe just one more...”

Phil was happily “scrolling down memory lane”, if you would, when something caught his eye. It was a quick drawing from towards the beginning of his Tumblr career. The caption said, “when dan sees a gym,” and the artist remembered it well. The caption had actually been an anonymous request, one of the very first he had ever received, and he remembered vividly the excitement as he set to work.

The drawing was of a big blocky door, similar to the ones Phil had seen in grade school leading into the gym. In its window were two things: a reflection of an orange basketball court filled with various sporty-type-things (Phil’s knowledge of any kind of athleticism was absolutely dismal), and Dan’s face, contorted in an overly frightened expression. At the time, he had used whatever practices available to avoid drawing bodies, out of sheer fear, and this idea had latched onto Phil so firmly that he couldn’t shake it. It was one of the first that gave him a big boost in the community, so he couldn’t believe how he hadn’t recognized it sooner. Maybe even his memory centers realized how much of a stretch it was to "recognize it" at all.

Phil scanned through the video slowly with his mouse. He finally clicked on the right place and drew in a breath.

The rehearsal space’s heavy gym door was closed. And a certain frightened rat was peering in through the door.

 

***

 

Phil was conflicted. This was clearly a coincidence. Obviously so. It wasn’t like it was all that creative of a pose, and the joke, to be honest, was pretty obvious. There was no way in _hell_ that Dan had 1) seen Phil’s post, 2) liked it, 3) said nothing about it, but decided to _recreate it_ in a _video_ for _millions of people_. That just wasn’t what people did! That wasn’t what _Dan Howell_ did! It wasn’t like he’d be stalking Tumblr to look at things about him from months and months ago; the daily influx of fan art was enough to keep him occupied, Phil was sure. Perhaps his ego was so inflated that he had to spend hours a day paging through the art of himself. Though Dan did mention in that fake biography of his that his ego was a flaw of his. Phil didn't believe himself, he realized. He knew that wasn't Dan. But either way, this was in no way connected to Phil. It couldn’t be.

But on the other hand, these coincidences had happened _twice_ now! Twice! Maybe, just maybe, someone on Dan’s team of staff _did_ see Phil’s post and _did_ like it, and maybe they told Dan certain things to do in a subtle nod. Or they were just stealing his composition ideas. But even that was a long shot.

Phil fell asleep that night with never-ending questions circling through his mind, a giggly feeling taking seemingly permanent residence in his stomach. But before he faded off completely, he made a promise to himself to prove himself right or wrong. He needed to see if Dan would do it again.

And he knew exactly how to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys make the shitty things that happen a lot easier to deal with. Thank you! I love you all oh so very much. Kudos and comments make me happier than Phil in a cereal bath!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to whoever misread "flaming" as "flamingo" a while ago. You're so valid tbh.

Phil begrudgingly admitted to himself that perhaps that was a bit of a lie. Or at least fairly ambitious. He didn’t know _exactly_ how to do it, sure, but his "idea" was at least worth a try: post a brand-spankin'-new drawing with Dan doing a distinct pose so that there could be no confusion.

Sue him if he wasn’t the most creative. As far as ideas went, that is. Spending time on Pinterest searching for interesting references had taken up most likely far too much of his art time over the years. But the answer to this problem was exceedingly obvious.

The real issue now was how to decide how to position the figure on the page. Whatever he chose had to be easily recognizable, but he was certainly not going to force Dan to do some crazy pose and risk his chances of his idol not taking the challenge at all. And there had to be some drama, of course, in the aftermath of debating whether or not it was inspired by Phil at all. Though he really needn't worry; the fandom needed no help creating drama. And in this case, there would be enough drama to go around.

He was currently slumped at his kitchen counter, frozen in place as he contemplated. His muscles felt stiff and tired. Maybe a walk could help him figure something out. Fresh air, and all that.

Phil pocketed his usual necessities and headed out the door for a rare venture outside. The pink light of early morning entered his weary eyes. A lone jogger was visible, their back to Phil as they ran out of sight. The artificially green plantlife around him seemed unreal, almost ethereal. Phil blinked away the blurry edges of his vision and took in the view from his post at his building’s front door. That peculiar feeling of emptiness in his stomach that always accompanied sunrise signified to Phil that he should _definitely_ still be in bed. His head felt stuffed with fluff, like a child’s toy. Or a dog’s chew toy.

Phil fantasized briefly that if he squeezed his arm, a squeaker would sound. He quickly snapped his attention back to this dimension, however, and began to walk. He couldn’t argue with how nice the morning air felt, even if it _was_ the asscrack of dawn.

It was as if the rose pigment of the sky was slowly seeping into the very air he was breathing, filling him with color. It was almost enough to make Phil grateful to have gotten up so early. Almost.

He had tossed and turned that night, waking every half hour or so with jumbled, undefinable worries plaguing his mind. It was nothing new to Phil, but unwelcome nonetheless. So when he woke up just forty-five minutes earlier, with the definite knowledge that he was going to be unable to sleep any longer that night, he knew he had to get up to shake himself out of his quickly oncoming stagnant state.

Phil passed a building with one of those rectangular basement windows that he had never noticed before. Mildly intrigued, he snuck a peek inside from his place on the sidewalk, making sure no passerby could see and marveled at the tiny tawny-colored dog inside. If it weren’t for his landlord, he would have at least two of the pups himself, and his unfortunate dog deprivation left him starving for puppy interaction.

He hurried on when he noticed someone inside the apartment move, afraid of being caught. Because, Phil reminded himself, looking into someone’s place like that was incredibly creepy. Even if it was just to see the dog. Phil mentally kicked himself. Why was he so weird?

He walked ahead, taking his time. Being productive and doing “normal human things” made him feel incredibly superior, or at least like a functioning human being for a moment. Phil smiled to himself. He really was such a mess. But that was okay.

The bleary-eyed man moseyed on, taking his time. Whether it was solely in the enjoyment of the scenery or his still-not-quite-in-the-swing-of-things state, he didn’t know. But regardless of the reason, he let himself walk slowly, swinging his head around whenever movement caught his eye.

Eventually, he came across a couple, kissing goodbye at a door stoop in that classic cinematic way. A man and a woman at first glance. The woman was standing inside, hands on each side of the doorframe as the man drew her face to his. Her short bob swung forward minimally, brushing against her cheekbones.

They pulled apart and smiled at each other wordlessly. Phil kept walking, giving them privacy. But when he crossed the street to the cute little bakery, a soft whoop sounded behind him. He turned his head just in time to see the man do a tiny jump in the air, smiling ear to ear.

Phil turned away and smiled to himself. But walking up to the glass door of the cafe, he noticed something disappointing. It hadn’t opened yet. Though it was only, Phil checked his phone, thirty-two minutes until opening time, Phil decided to keep walking.

He hummed as he walked along, a suitably cinematic picture forming in his mind: Phil in an old thirties-style movie as the protagonist, jauntily strolling down the street, daydreaming of his lady love and humming a love song. Phil indulged himself for a minute in the fantasy. He had always dreamed of being the hero of a story. For even in his own life, he found himself taking the role of a sidekick rather than the protagonist.

But as he thought over this Movie Phil’s tale, he realized all of the aspects that were so completely backwards. He wasn’t walking all that “jauntily” at all, the exhaustion of the morning still dragging down his feet a bit, thinking of a “lady love” was never in the cards for him, and the song he was humming wasn’t even a love song. It was just some nameless Top 50 pop song stuck in his head.

So perhaps this was one fantasy that Phil could never fulfill. And maybe that was okay, too. He could be a hot mess of a stumbling sidekick and still be happy!

Or, at least, he hoped so.

Something about the early morning had to have been getting to him. He usually tried to steer away from his darker or more whimsical thoughts. Going down either of those roads never ended well.

Cramming these considerations back into the well where they came from, Phil began to think on what he could draw for Dan. His thoughts immediately flicked back to the couple he had just passed.

They looked so happy, both of them. So in love.

A wave of loneliness crashed over Phil, drowning him in an instant. His breathing became labored and his contacts must have been backward, or put in the wrong way, as evidenced by his suspiciously watery eyes. But it was gone as soon as it came when Phil fought it off with all of his buffed-up mental blockades.

He wouldn’t dwell on it. But that pose might work, with Dan in the woman’s position, leaning out with his feet firmly planted behind the threshold. He liked the idea of Dan being so happy. Perhaps he could change the facial expression to make it a touch more recognizable. Winking, perhaps?

Satisfied with his ideas, he turned to go home. Stopping at the last minute, however, he remembered his quest for food. He should probably go to the supermarket while he was out.

Now he _really_ felt like an adult. Spinning on his heel, he strolled up to the store just as the doors were opening, making a beeline for the cereals. Finally, he would be able to wake up to some delicious frosted sugar. Perfect.

 

***

 

Phil’s hands ached. His fingers were throbbing, the joints white and angry. His cheeks were red and his hair had wilted slightly, just enough to feel strands of it wisping against his forehead. He detested those strands at that moment.

Phil screamed silently, mouth ajar, dropping his liner on his desk. He angrily shoved his right hand through his hair, tempted to just rip it all out entirely. Feeling like a little kid having a temper tantrum, and every nerve in his body alight, he stood up in frustration.

Stalking into the kitchen, he set his sights on his newly-stocked pantry.

Fully abandoning the idea of maintaining the veneer of adulthood that Phil had earlier in the day, he ripped the plastic off his trusty Orville popcorn and threw it in the microwave. Stress-eating popcorn was a newer development. It used to be that he would shovel chocolate chips or cereal into his mouth at lightning speeds, but all that resulted was extra weight in his midriff, which, in turn, made him crave emotional eating more, so he went out searching for a new stress food. This ended up being extra-salty, extra-buttery Orville microwave popcorn. In truth, it wasn’t much better than some of his other binging foods, but by the time he realized it, he was already hooked.

And popcorn time came with a special tradition: whining to Flame about whatever he needed the popcorn to counteract.

“Ughhhhhhhh. Being an artist is hard why do i even try help meee im gonna DIE”

Exiting the messages, he tapped over to his dashboard. He was a dozen reloads and half of the popcorn bowl in when he finally received a text from Flame.

“Alright what is it this time? Also u good? Still breathing there?” he replied.

Phil smiled abashedly, realizing how over-the-top he could be sometimes, “Ugh idk sorry I’m actually such a drama gay. idk how I’ve even survived. I do promise im still kicking”

“Haha dw. Glad to know. So…?”

“Oh right lol. Just this thing I’m working on is taking absolutely FOREVER. Im like halfway through.”

“So naturally you’re on tumblr,” Flame shot back quickly.

“Yeah lol. Pretty much. And complaining to u (sorry bout that btw).”

“Lol trust me I don’t mind. Ive done it enough to you.”

Another text from Flame came in, “Ooh, can I see it??? The project? I feel like I’ve earned that sweet sweet behind the scenes amazingsketches contentussy by now, no?”

_Absolutely. But not when it's put that way._

“Oh, im not sure. That’s reserved for vips and hot celebrities…. (and dan howell, but then again hes both so..)”

He waited for Flame’s response, which came in quickly as, “Oh, and am I not a vip?? Well excuse me then mister.”

“........BUT I think I’m willing to make an exception ;)”

“Just this once, mind you.”

“ok ok. I guess ill just have to find a way to become a celebrity or something next time i wanna see a wip.”

“Yeah you do that lol.”

“So…?”

“So? ;)”

“Im on the edge of my seat here! philly lets see them vip pics already!!”

Rejuvenated and ready to snap some pictures for Flame, Phil dashed back to his desk. His long-forgotten and lukewarm popcorn remained by itself on the little island to be cleaned up at a later date (aka whenever he got around to it).

After quickly taking pictures, however, Phil began to have his doubts. The piece wasn’t even finished. Would Flame like it? Would it diminish the image of Phil’s talent he had? It wasn’t even close to something he’d post on his blog.

_No. It’s Flame we’re talking about here. It’ll be fine. Flame would never say anything to hurt you. You know that. Now stop being an emotional idiot and send those pictures!_

With this last voice winning out in his mind, Phil quickly sent the photos and waited for a response.

“god your “halfway done” is like four times as good as literally anyone’s. you could easily sell your stuff all over the place.”

“omg uh thanks?”

“No seriously! Youre really good. Dont people get redbubbles and stuff?”

“Yeah i guess. I’ve considered it. maybe soon when i have more free time lol but for now i have the commissions n stuff”

“Yeah i get that. Are you going to post that drawing btw?”

“well once i actually finish it… which at this point might not even happen. Im mad at it :(”

“you got this! You can do it! I believe in you!”

“lol thank. guess i have to go finish it now…”

“Youre welcome Philly. Go be productive.”

“(Youre the worst but) fiiiiine…” Eagerness to finish it amplified, Phil returned to his “art headspace”. He worked and worked until his fingers ached. Being a perfectionist wasn’t a quality that made his life all that much easier, but at least his work was always (mostly) satisfactory to others' eyes, even if it wasn't quite right.

He wasn’t able to post it until the day after, having spent much of his time at home editing projects from work. And he was happy with it.

But when Louise, a friend of Dan’s, also known as “Sprinkleofglitter” (a channel name Phil had always loved saying aloud) posted her weekly vlog, something… strange happened.

 

***

 

“It couldve been a coincidence you know.”

“Nope! Absolutely not. even dan howell knows how talented you are. philip michael why are you so determined to make things hard for you?”

“Thanks liz for that btw but uhh no way. besides, she said that was on thursday when she and dan met up. I posted the drawing on friday at like midnight.”

“theres still NO WAY its a coincidence phil. Im sorry but its just not possible. AACK THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL!!”  _Dantasticlizzie_ , everyone.

“Its definitely a coincidence.” He really regretted his choice of position. That “drama” he considered earlier was just frustrating in effect.

“Ugh there has to be a way for this to be true. I can be the friend of a friend of daniel. james. howell. I WILL make this happen!!!”

“Lol okay.”

“Work with me here! did you like show anyone before or something??”

“I mean just one but like theres no way that couldve been why”

“well who was it????????”

“idk liz does it really matter”

“just humor me for a minute ok? WHO??”

“ugh fine. You know that guy ive been talking to for a while?” Phil had spent hours upon hours over time rambling to Lizzie about him, especially at the beginning of the friendship. All those months ago, she noticed his (quite obvious, at least back then) feelings for the unnamed man, and teased him mercilessly. Phil knew she wouldn't have forgotten.

“yeah ofc. flamingo dan right?

Phil huffed out a laugh through his nose, “*flaming* dan not flamingo lol. But yeah.”

“And you showed it to him before you posted it?”

“yeah”

“And no one else???”

“yeah...”

“omg. omg phil.”

_Ugh. Let me guess, she thinks that––_

“YOURE FRIENDS WITH ACTUAL IRL DAN HOWELL”

“no. no im not.”

“YOUR LOVER BOY IS ACTUAL IRL DAN HOWELL"

"Lizzie!!! cmon srsly"

"Ugh but just think about it. you dont know his name, you dont know what he looks like. hes a guy somewhere in your age range and hes queer (yeah yeah it isnt confirmed but like…duh) for all you know he could be someone super duper famous and hes trying to hide it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“OR hes just a private person. Hes not the only one on this site to do this lizzie. YOU dont even use your real name!”

“Ok sure whatever but STILL!!! How cool would that be??” She just wouldn’t let up, would she?

“It doesnt fucking MATTER because FLAME. ISNT. DAN. HOWELL. ok?!?! We’re not in your freaking “phanfic” or something and you cant just write me a cool life just because youre bored with your own. can we just drop it already?”

Lizzie’s reply took longer than usual and Phil felt a twinge of guilt, “yeah sure sorry sorry. but just think about it, yeah?”

“yeah alright whatever. but i promise you liz––youre completely wrong. sorry for dashing your dreams of ur secret-celebrity-trope fics irl lol.” He was being mean. He knew that intellectually, but couldn't stop the words from flying off his fingertips. An apology would definitely be coming later, "but, as much fun as it would be, i will bet you my everloving ass on a _stick_ that ur wrong here. Sorry babe."

But for all his protesting, doubt lingered in the furthest corner of Phil’s mind. But that simply wasn’t something that he could consider. He couldn’t get his hopes up like that.

 _I’m not a twelve-year-old girl infatuated with my fucking_ senpai _or something. And I’m not gonna fantasize about Dan fucking Howell. I’m not quite that desperate yet. And for that matter, I’m not gonna fantasize about Flame, either. Neither of them are gonna give me the time of day, or whatever the damn saying is. I might as well start thinking about running off with the goddamn King of England. Flame isn’t Dan. He. Can’t. Be. Lizzie’s wrong, as per usual. That’s ridiculous. Ludicrous. Insane!_

_Right?_

The lingering doubt remained where it was, sequestered away in a locked box in an unreachable spot. But every so often, tendrils of it snuck out, winding around Phil’s thoughts and invading his consciousness. And every time, Phil would shove it back away.

But in his sleep that night, the doubt and his secret theories sprang from their box, shaping his dream world and whispering promises of things that could never be true.

Phil woke, bitter and lonely, with visions of warm brown eyes haunting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than Dan screaming "_____ me Daddy!!" at any opportunity!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. Fic. Has been FIGHTING ME.
> 
> I made some mistakes at the beginning in terms of planning and it has 1000% come back to bite me in the ass. Plus school. Eww.
> 
> So a few days ago, I went back and edited a fair bit (and changed the formatting) so that I could finally be in a place that I could be okay with it.
> 
> I wanted to give yall a little longer of a chapter to make up for it all...

“ _Nonononono_! You’re _wrong_! You’re so so so so so so so so…” He forgot what he was saying for a moment. He scoured his brain. _Oh, right!_ “ _so_ so so so so _so_ wrong!” Phil’s words slurred together enough to put them firmly in the realm of unintelligible. It had been too long since he last drank - somewhere along the line he had turned into a damn lightweight. He hadn’t meant to have so much, either, especially in such a short amount of time, but he eventually gave in. He excused it away half-heartedly, trying to convince himself that with all of the fandom shit recently, he deserved a few minutes of blissful numbness. Maybe then he could stop thinking about Flame, and Dan Howell, and the suffocating self-imposed shame associated with both.

“ _Yesyesyesyesyes_! I, my good sir, ‘m so right it should be wrong!” What’s-Her-Face waggled her finger in the air and shook her head vigorously enough to dislodge whatever remnants of long dirty-blonde hair were still in the carefully-styled tight bun she had sported in the hours before. Her garbled speech rivaled even Phil’s. So much for having work in the morning.

To his vaguely registered dismay, the girl’s name had been lost to Phil’s alcohol-soaked brain. Though, in truth, it wasn’t all that surprising, as she was always the one member of their little squad he had never formed much of a connection to. Not that he didn’t enjoy her company once and awhile (especially while drunk), but there wasn’t that _spark_ between them. Not like there was for Lizzie, or Sheila, or Raven, or… _or Flame_ , his brain filled in helpfully. But he didn’t think about that. And he didn’t think about forgetting her name. He wouldn’t have to think about anything for a few blissful minutes.

They stared each other down over the dark wood of the tabletop. Phil’s eyes narrowed and he leaned in, resting on his hands, which splayed against the smooth edge. But What’s-Her-Face, with a determined expression overtaking her features, mimicked his movement exactly. So, of course, driven by a not-so-deeply-buried competitive drive, he had to lean even further than her. So much so that his belly was flat against the table. But Phil seemed to have met his match.

What’s-Her-Face mirrored him, but went so far as to scoot forward on the table slightly so that her weight rested mostly on it. Phil knew she couldn’t get away with this. He flopped forward like a beached fish so that their noses were _almost_ touching. They gazed into each other’s eyes, both watching for an indication of movement. Phil could not lose whatever juvenile competition they were having.

In a trance, he saw out of the corner of his eye one of his long limbs pluck itself off of the table and wobble through the air to the air between Phil and What’s-Her-Face. The pair both watched, transfixed and gaping, as it slowly came to a halt in front of her.

Phil grinned, understanding dawning on his face as its mission revealed itself.

“Boop!” He tapped the little upward tip of her nose and started cackling loudly. His head slammed down on the table with the force of his laughter… which only served to make him laugh more at the sheer absurdity of it. What’s-Her-Face joined a split second after Phil. Her high giggle spiraled more and more out of control until she, too, was splitting her sides, gasping for breath. Their combined laughter resonated throughout the little alcove the table was positioned in and into the living room through the archway.

If they had bothered to look, they would have noticed their companions shooting them varying looks. Most had surprised expressions, but the host themself, Raven, who was not surprised in the least, was lost in amused laughter. Watching Phil and What’s-Her-Name roll around her table was prime entertainment. Besides, God knew Phil never got drunk, anyhow, due to his strange reactions (and penchant for keeping secrets that would promptly be revealed by vodka), so they would enjoy the embarrassing debacle as long as they could. And maybe get some blackmail material if things escalated too far.

Their rambunctious laughter continued for far longer than could be comfortable. When one trailed off, the other would start anew with a new round of hysterics, and the cycle continued. Eventually, however, Phil slid off the table, clutching his pained chest with one hand and wiping his face with the other messily. _I’m gonna have fucking_ abs _in the morning from all this clenching._

“Wait! Wait wait wait!” At the sound of What’s-Her-Face’s voice, he peeked over the table. She leaned on top of it, elbows pressing down and her head tilting from side to side happily like an excited puppy. “I still think - yeah, I still think I’m right! I am!”

“There’s just - there’s just - _no!_ The point is to get _rid_ of it! You don’t wanna keep it!” The laughter rose up in him again, but he pushed it down. He was a serious adult man at a serious adult party, and he could behave like so.

“But the _game_ is called ‘Old Maid’! So you wanna get it! Like…” She pondered for a moment. “Like poker! No! That’s not it. What’s that game? The one with the cards and the dealer guy ‘n chips ‘n the - _blackjack_! That one!” She nodded triumphantly.

Phil frowned. Her logic was airtight. “But…”

A voice interrupted from the next room, calling out “Phil’s right!” And then, quieter, “Though I haven’t got a fucking clue why you’re talking about this in the first place…” A chorus of agreements followed the first statement, along with one “sorry Emily”. _Emily!_ Phil puffed up, proud of himself for his skillful deductive reasoning, while Emily slumped down again, flinging her body out over the table. She always did have a penchant for the dramatic.

Phil laughed. “You’re like… you know those, like, wiggly dudes at car places?”

Emily’s head popped up again. “ _Yeah_! I love those funky dudes!” She broke down in giggles.

“ _Oh my God_ , me too! They’re just so, like, _fun_ , you know? Chill, but, like, hype!”

“Yes! The most!”

She then proceeded to spend half a minute imitating the “wiggly dudes” as Phil cheered her on, occasionally joining, and essentially embarrassing the fuck out of themselves in front of several people with iPhones.

But their merciful host called their names in their patented Disapproving Voice, and the pair came to attention like two puppies reprimanded for playing too rough. They waved them over and Phil and Emily careened toward the long brown couch.

“Philip Michael Lester,” his old college roommate, Jacob, stated. God, he hadn’t thought about _him_ in _years_. His name in Phil’s inbox, suggesting a reunion, tremendously surprised him.

Phil hiccuped in response.

“Gotta say, this wasn’t exactly what I pictured for tonight. Maybe some Cards Against Humanity, some beers, some catching up? No?” He looked around at the little group quickly. As if he wasn’t the one who brought the alcohol that was currently working to turn Phil into a blubbering mess. “But, hey, I might as well take advantage of it…” His expression made Phil worry somewhere in the muddled back of his brain. “So… you got a new fuck buddy yet, Phil?”

“Wha-” His brain short-circuited. _Huh? The fuck did that come from?_

“Jacob,” Lily, another member of their small group, warned. She didn’t seem surprised

“What? You all agreed he was acting weird about something. And for fuck’s sake, Phil, it’s about damn time! The last guy was fricking _“Marc with a C”_! Months ago! And we all know how fantastic that went…”

“I - I mean…” Phil attempted a coherent response. The only issue was that he didn’t even know himself if he was in the range of “Single” or “It’s complicated”. He was about to say as much when Raven interrupted him.

“Whatever, man. Just drop it. It doesn’t matter. Lily, how’s your new job?” Raven directed the question to the fifth member of their little group, easily switching topics. Phil gave them a grateful look, which they responded to with only a wink. Even after all this time, he could trust them. Damn. He really should’ve kept in better touch. After tonight, he knew he would. They were the one Phil knew he would go to to “pull back his hair”, as it were.

“It’s pretty good! The workload is stepped up from Mirko, that’s for damn sure,” she grumbled.

Jacob couldn't resist. “What, he's not letting you slip by with just a pre-work blow job like that sleazebag did?” He made a face.

“Shut up!” Lily lunged at him, tackling him playfully. They fell to the ground, laughing. Undisturbed by the altogether unsurprising act, the rest of the group continued catching up. (Their on-again-off-again relationship all of college had petered out, but no one could deny the lingering chemistry). The conversation switched over to Emily, who had recently received a promotion that drew her halfway across the country, to rainy Seattle on the West Coast. This was the catalyst of the reunion, after all, when Jacob went all but crazy over the fact that he heard about it through a mutual friend instead of the girl herself.

But when they met up, over two and a half hours ago at Ippolito’s, their old favorite Italian place from way back when, they all vowed to steer clear of any saddening topics. Those would be saved for the next get-together. But tonight, however, everyone agreed, should be about any positive events they missed.

As they chatted, Phil let himself relax into an unfamiliar state of peace. He was safe here, on this couch, with these people. They had seen him at his lowest points (and there were some harsh ones of those), and yet they loved him anyway. There were no other people he trusted more. Even if sometimes they pried a little too far into his personal life. And so, with his defences lowering and mind relaxing, those thoughts he was so desperately cramming down sprang back up. But they weren’t the anxiety-inducing thoughts he might have expected to accompany the topic. They were of a completely different category. And Phil felt his resolve giving in. His body began to itch, to _crave_ to satisfy them.

And he knew exactly what he had to do. He knew how nice it would be. How _hot_ it would be. How gross he would feel after, but how much he needed it now. Somewhere it registered how creepy he was starting to appear, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Phil staggered to his feet, flashing a reassuring smile when the conversation faltered, and maneuvered into Raven’s study where he knew he would find what he needed. He flung open their drawers until he found it: a single sheet of white paper. He licked his lips. _Bingo._

He rattled through a few more drawers for a pencil and happily returned to the living room with his prizes. One of the keystone rules Phil knew the rest would remember from the “good old days” was “Thou shalt not look over Phil’s shoulder when he’d drawing”, and he had never been so glad to already have that rule in place.

Instead of sitting back in his earlier position, he decided on a stool by the nearby kitchen counter to reduce any possibility of someone catching him in the act and sneaking a glance. At least part of him remembered that, even if it didn’t remember why he shouldn’t have been doing it in the first place. And there were a lot of reasons for that one. He waved his paper with a quick shrug at the questioning looks given to him while Jacob regaled them with one of his infamously drawn-out stories.

And Phil got to work. Sure, he’d really fucking regret it later, but _damn_ was this fun. He grabbed another nauseating cup of alcohol poisoning Jacob had somehow managed to convince him to try and brought it to his lips. _Here we fucking go, boys._

 

 

***

Phil was in his bed. Somehow. He was in his bed with a _killer_ headache and he was clutching a single crumpled white piece of paper in his arms. With a rather _interesting_ image on it…

Say what you want about drunk Phil, but he’s certainly got quite the imagination. Phil blinked. The image refused to change.

That oh-so-familiar face, distorted due to the circumstances in which it was created, stared up at Phil, pleading for something. His hands were tied behind his back and attached to the simple wooden chair he was perched upon. His legs were spread obscenely and… _Oh my God, Phil._

Never in any of the similar stacks of white paper shoved in his third desk drawer never to see the light of day had Phil made that plunge. There were always bedsheets to be pulled down, hands to be used as covering. But in this drawing, which he might have doubted he even created if not for his sloppy signature, it appeared as if Dan’s dick was the only thing he paid attention to at all.

Phil's eyes widened and he quickly looked away, afraid of any reaction he might have. Drunk Phil from the night before didn't seem to have the same instinct, though. Memories flooded his mind, of his friends watching suspiciously, of getting shooed off in an Uber hours early. Of wanting to call Lizzie but his phone being taken away by friends who were altogether far too good to him.

Right, Lizzie. Shit. For her being one of his best friends, he sure did treat her horribly sometimes. He couldn’t help but think this would all be much easier if they knew each other in real life. Having a regular occasion to see each other would be an easier way to break the ice than popping up out of the blue with a DM. He was never good at dealing with conflict.

But he sighed and navigated over to the phone app, noting her name at the very top of his list of recents. He couldn’t look her in the eye while dealing with this. If it meant being considered an old man, so be it. A deep breath accompanied his tap on her name. As it rang, he thought frantically about what to say. He knew he had been an asshole, and that he needed to apologize, but after that was where it ended. Words had never been his strong suit, especially when dealing with people he cared about. But he knew Lizzie. She would understand.

_I think._

The rapid beeping of his phone carried on. _She can’t just_ not _pick up, right? Oh crap, was I that much of an idiot? Shit. This is what fucking happens when you let your emotions get the best of you, Phil._

Lizzie never answered. Phil almost cancelled the call, but stopped himself at the last second. Maybe it was better this way; leaving a message was far less stressful than talking to a living, breathing human being. And yet he worried about why he had to talk to the voicemail box instead of Lizzie. She always picked up.

“Oh, uh, hey, Lizzie! Sorry if you’re, uh, busy or somethin’…” Phil checked the time. _Ohh._ “Or sleeping. Most likely that one. Heh. I didn’t realize how late it was - early. How early it is… So anyway, I was kinda a dick to you before and I’m sorry. You were having the same reactions as I would have if I were in your position, y’know.” Phil’s subsequent chuckle was strained. “But, uh, yeah. Sorry, Liz. Uh. Yeah. ‘Night. Or ‘morning. Or whatever. Bye.”

_Huh… Not as painful as I expected._

Phil groaned and rolled over, shoving himself off the bed in the same motion. He might as well… work on _it_? It wasn't even close to anything he'd ever even _considered_ posting before (though in the bottom of a stack of unfinished projects in a desk drawer lay a few rough sketches of a similar nature), but even if he didn't _post_ it, it never hurt to practice. Right?

Before he could question this decision, he already had a few sepia-toned colored pencils scooped up and was on his way out to his living room. The natural light there was always nice to draw in. Even if the soft glow didn't match up with the _style_ Phil was currently experimenting with.

He tried to think about this analytically. Plenty of artists thrived on this kind of NSFW work. Plenty of people loved to _look_ at this kind of NSFW work. It was normal. And if he did end up showing it off somewhere, it would be a good promo for amazingsketches, anyway, for the people surfing the pornier sides of fan art.

Yeah. He was fine.

Phil worked on the drawing until his fingers hurt. If he was going to do it, he was going to do it right. But before he could manage to literally work himself to the bone, his phone dinged loudly. He read it and felt himself tense.

“So phil you're gonna have to promise me that youre not gonna get mad ok.”

“What did you do?”

“its not that bad, I promise. I was trying to stand up for you. Just promise you won't be mad.”

Phil felt his metaphorical hackles rise. “yeah I won't - if you don't give me something to be mad about?? Tell me liz.”

Phil's mouth hardened into a tight line as he anticipated whatever mistake Lizzy had made. Her persistence was oftentimes endearing, and a large part of what made her personality so unique, but she had no concept of where the acceptable lines of privacy lay.

There had been a few close calls in their friendship when his natural propensity for keeping his cards close to his chest and her nosiness clashed rather harshly. But even if Phil and Lizzie spent a day or so pissed and hurt, respectively, they always reconciled in the end. But never before had Lizzie ever felt the need to preemptively apologize. Phil didn’t like what that boded for what was to come.

“alright...” Phil waited anxiously for her next message, which turned out to be a screenshot of a Tumblr chat dated last night. Between her and Flame. _Oh, Liz, what did you do?_

He read the conversation, the lingering peace from his art space dwindling down in his chest.

_Yo buddy I'm liz and my best friend's in love with you._

Oh, holy fuck.

**Uh hey. Nice to meet ya. What??**

_mi mejor amigo. my BFFL. my platonic soulmate for all time. A one mr amazingsketches, artist extraordinaire and someone whom I would die and kill for before you could say dans a furry._

**Phil?**

_you got it!_

**ok well uh firstly no he's very much not. Secondly who even are you**

_Did I not just tell you? I'm someone who cares about him very much and Ill cut any bitch who hurts him_

**ok.. good for you**

_and now you listen to me. I know Phil's been all heart eyes and shit since you guys started talking and listen - I ain’t mad at that. Actually, I kinda love you for that, maybe even more than phil does if thats possible lol. But what I would be mad at is if you break his heart._

**ok. Well were not dating or anything so like how would i manage to do that lol**

_by lying to him. By telling him you're something you're not._

**hey man i get yall are friends but id appreciate it if youd stay out of other peoples business yeah? I never claimed to be anything im not he knows that. Ok? we good?**

_no thats not fucking ok. I know phil: he doesnt like to get his hopes up and tbh hes oblivoius as hell sometimes but i know whats up. I know who you are, and i know u like him 2_

Phil’s headache grew. He didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with this shit now. A bitter hole opened up in his chest.

**you know who i am then huh. Pray tell me then. Ive been meaning to get around to figuring that out**

_you know exactly what im talking about. but yeah yeah deflect, keep up with the existential branding sure_

**what the fuck are you talking about??**

_hmm i dunno. What do you think im talking about?_

**rn i have no idea. and phil does not like me. I know it, he cant.**

_why because youve been lying to him about urself this whole time?_

**Youre kidding right?**

 

_does it seem like im kidding?? this is my friend were talking about here buddy. and you're lying to him!_

 

**no. im. not.**

 

_Hah. Right._

 

**The whole point of this fucking thing’s NOT lying to phil. im not telling him things because i dont want to and im not. comfortable. with. it.**

 

**the fuck??**

 

_right._

 

_sorry if im a little intense. I get that u know. I do. I just dont want phil to get hurt._

 

**yeah i sorta fucking got that. But if u know that weve been talking then you have to know that i care about him too, yeah?**

 

_then you have to be honest with him!_

 

**i just cant man**

 

**Not right now.**

 

_but in the future?_

 

**idk**

 

_you care about him_

 

**yea of course**

 

_and yet you wont tell him. And it is deeeefinitely lying if youve talked about the thing youre lying about and youve made sure not to say something_

 

**that doesnt make sense**

 

_if im right and i always am (except for when phils right cause hes even more always right than i am - remember that) then it makes perfect sense. You know what im talking about._

 

**lol right. Just for the sake of argument, say you are right? About whatever the fuck you’re theorizing about? So what? I cant wreck our relationship now**

 

 _TRUUUUUUST me it wouldnt wreck your_ relationship _buddy_

 

**right. well thanks for the advice and threats. That it? I have shit to do.**

 

_yeah i guess. Just go for it. Youll thank me. Hes so far gone on you idk if hell ever recover. Just be nice (*´∀`*)_

 

_Also, I’m totally claiming being a bridesmaid at yall’s wedding!!! Dont even try to stop me!!_

 

**Lol sure. We’ll see. Bye**

 

_bye lover boy_

 

Flame did not reply again.

 

Phil saw red.

 

 

 

***

_Growth _,__ Phil reminded himself, vibrating with emotion, _ __Emotional fucking growth. That's what we're working on today. So calm down and just fucking grow already! Lord knows you fucking need it.___

 

And yet, every fiber of his being yearned to scream, and yell, and fume. To slam the doors on all of the emotions clamoring for attention and to convince himself that anger was the only reason his heart felt like it was being crushed into a tiny ball.

 

Phil considered going back to bed for a moment. He dismissed the thought with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happier than the phandom latching onto any and all conspiracies we can!
> 
>  
> 
> *(If they move I'm going to combust)*


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst. I love you all so much.

A soft pink oversized jumper, light-washed blue overalls. And a deep dimple.

These were the things Phil was sketching onto one of the few last empty pages of his sketchbook, summoned by a peculiar dream. A pastel Dan, with a pink flower crown and delicate features. He did not have on makeup, though; Phil hadn’t quite worked up the courage for that yet. If you say a wish out loud, it doesn’t come true, right? The logic wasn’t completely sound, but the end result was a rosy-cheeked Dan glowing from natural beauty instead of blush or highlighter.

He was using watercolors again, his old, stained palette on the desk nearby. And he was almost done.

Phil flicked his brush in one final swoop near the edge of the paper where he had filled in a swirling background and sat back in his chair, ignoring the ache in both his neck and back from poring over the painting for so long. But who could blame him? This painting had to be perfect, or as close to it as Phil could get and not go bonkers.

The night before, Phil had tossed and turned for what felt like hours but was, in all likelihood, only a few minutes, until he could finally fall asleep. Being a naturally deep sleeper, he had his fair share of unusual dreams, dreams that made him wake up in a sweat (for a variety of reasons), ones that left him in a confused state for several others, and a host of other “unique” things that really would only occur to Phil’s strange mind. So that night, he dreamt of a pink Dan. A glimpse of that rapidly-fading dream that brought about this wave of ambition brushed his mind’s eye, and he made a quick mental checklist of similarities and differences with the piece it inspired. He frowned.  
The eyes were all wrong—too squinty, too wide. And the shoulders, they were the worst bit. They were crooked, uneven, even in the semi-realistic style Phil called his own, and threw off the composition in a slight and subtle way that, nonetheless, irked him to no end. He knew this would stick with him for at least the rest of the day (and just his luck that he happened to create something underwhelming right after he woke up so as to have the most time to mope about it).

But all of a sudden, a voice popped into his head, one that, though he had never heard it truly, sounded familiar and warm, telling him how talented he was, how jealous he was of Phil's abilities. And, though it may seem cheesy, and in all respects, it absolutely was, it lifted Phil's spirits a bit. Enough to mentally tell himself off and promise not to have any regrets.

With a newfound sense of “it is what it is” (and, to a lesser extent, “Oh, fuck it”), Phil took out his phone and snapped a few photos of the drawing. Today, he didn't bother with the whole camera rigamarole (and isn't that one of the best words of the English language?), instead opting to go forward with one of the first ones he took, captioning it with an appropriate amount of emojis and tagging the dozens of Dan Howell tags he always had to include.

Sometime during his deliberation or picture- taking, he had leaned forward again and hadn't returned to his more comfortable position resting against the back of his chair, so as he posted the photo, he made sure to lean back in apology to his lower back region.

And there. It was out in the world. Now if only Phil could find it in himself to enjoy it as much as the hundreds of people quickly flooding into his blog seemed to. He sighed.

***

The next time it happened, Phil was washing his hair. He was in the shower, looking through the foggy glass of his shower door, computer propped up on the closed toilet lid against its back, Dan’s livestream pulled up in full screen.

He had just put in conditioner and took the moment to put the stopper on the drain, change the tap, sink down, and slide open the door. And immediately freak out. To see Dan on his little screen, the sort that folded down to make itself into a tablet, was too much for him to handle. And there was no way Phil could deny something was going on now.

And if Phil jerked off furiously before leaving the shower, that was his own business.

***

“Philly! Philly, my man! My dude! My bro! How you - you good?” Brandon slung an arm around Phil’s shoulders, not noticing his cringe at both the nickname and the proximity.

Phil raised his right hand, still clutching a mostly-full beer bottle. “Yup. All good here. Bro.” His lips pressed together in a pained smile.

“Nah, bro, nah nah nah,” Brandon was quick to reply in his dragging voice, “Bro, you can’t just - just sit here ‘n, like, do nothin’! C’mere.” With that, he pushed himself off of the bench seat Phil was occupying and went to grab something out of the communal cooler in the back.

Phil slouched forward in his seat and rubbed at his temples in a futile motion to rub away the pain of the night. Hopefully Brandon wasn’t expecting him to come along. With any luck, he’d forget what he was doing and leave Phil alone to wait out the night. Or maybe Phil should’ve gone along instead, gotten wasted, and gotten the night over with. It wouldn’t be so bad to be here one moment and waking up in bed the next. He wouldn't have to hear the word “bro” so many times in a short conversation.

Before Phil could decide on a course of action, he was assaulted by a lumpy sack of frat boy again, and this time, he had alcohol. And not just beer either - when Phil got a whiff of whatever was in that cup, his eyes watered. Whatever God forsaken mixture he was being presented, it sure as hell was not meant for human consumption. But, deciding his plan in a flash, he took it and sipped tentatively as Brandon looked on.

“Oh, God,” Phil forced out hoarsely after pushing down a single gulp.

“Good, right?” Brandon looked years younger, eyes wide and looking hopefully toward Phil.

Phil gave in. “Yeah, yeah, so good, bro! Thanks.” He got a whiff of his cup and recoiled.

“Hell yeah, bro, anytime. Hey, lemme go round up these fuckers in the back. We’re aboutta get this shit started!”

“Yeah, you go, man.”

Brandon patted his shoulder and stumbled away, a huge grin plastered over his face. Dear God.

When they stopped and a black-haired woman in… suspiciously scant clothing made her way up the bus stairs, Phil’s stomach sank.

And he chugged.  
***

One eye. That's all you have to do. Just open one eye. Ugh. Maybe I could just wait… No! Nope nopenope––one eye, Phil!

“Ugh,” Phil groaned as he was confronted by stark white light the minute he forced his eyelid to cooperate. It immediately closed again and he used all of his strength to open both eyes, this time prepared and able to steel his poor eyes against the assault.

And, naturally, his first move was to grab his phone and further strengthen the abuse from the light pouring out of the screen. Once he tapped on the first, he was greeted with what seemed like endless Tumblr notifications, all some variation on “DO IT”, in either message or ask form. Ignoring the pounding in his brain, he opened the app in search of what it was he was supposed to do. And when he did find it, he began to really, truly regret his choices the night before.

okayy **so** im **like kinda drunk so like idk but like also** theres **a stripper here and like dan??? as stripper?/? good? Very good? Do we want this?** sbould i **do it????? vision: garter. bra. dan** howell **. yes??**

Phil stared at what seemed to be his own words incredulously. Did he really…? Phil sighed. Judging from his inbox’s overload, he really did.

> **DOITDOITDOIT** youre **disgusting I love it do** itttttt **–Anonymous**
> 
> **for the love of Christ man do it –Anonymous**
> 
> **DO IT –** assielassie
> 
> **Phil??? you had better draw this fucking idea or** stg i **will track you down and murder you.** ily **!!! –** dantasticlizzie

Phil frowned. There was one notification that he hadn’t noticed: a message from someone whose URL looked suspiciously like Flame’s saying “hey phil when you wake up lets talk lmao”. The sinking sensation in Phil’s stomach said he wouldn’t be as enthusiastic about his drunken posting as the others seemed to be. He scrolled up a little in the conversation, and as he read more and more, the more embarrassed he got.

“Uh hey drunk phil ya mind explaining what that’s all about?”

“yea yea yea so like dans hot right and my party bus friend people were drooling over this stripper right? and shes dressed in stripper clothes.” “so like dan in stripper clothes is like max hotness.”

“right. party bus?”

“bachelor party!! college person total douche but like lots of alcohol. its disgustingg I hate it save me flamyyy”

“flamy???”

“yea! cause like ur flame so flamey.”

“im flame huh”

“shitfuck”

“lmao yup”

“hey you wont tell me ur real name u cant blame meee :(“

“guess not.”

“and like cause ur url starts with flame?”

“no dw I got it just fine thx”

“oh good :)”

“philly?”

“yes” “flamey?”

“like. you know were gonna meet one day rihgt? im not gonna be such a dick forever”

“I know flamey. ur just not want to tell me its ok. would be nice to geta pic one day tho. tbh starting to doubt ill eve rknow what my best friend looks like”

“ur my best friend too philly”

“oh shit I said that didn t i? well I mean its true not lke I regret it but liked cause i”

“I get it lol dw”

“oh ok good. i knew you would this is why ilysm”

“:)?”

“why ?”

“no reason”

“ok”

“you should like sleep or something. youll feel better in the morning if you do.”

“no i don’t wannaaa”

“where are u?”

“home…”

“phil if you dont sleep tonight, ur gonna hate it tomorrow…”

“but im eating a cookie!!”

“ok phil finish ur cookie and then go to sleep ok?”

“…”

“?”

“ok”

“good. sweet dreams phillie”

“gnight flamey xx”

Phil dropped his head back to his pillow out of utter mortification. He did. He really did all of that. He told Flame that a) he called him Flame at all, and b) he loved him? What the ever-loving fuck did he do that for? He was never going to live that down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments make me happier than Phil finally getting back at Linda through the interwebs!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry, my ever-patient readers! Next one'll be longer, but hey, at least, there's something to post! ;)

“No, no, nonononononono this isn’t fucking happening to me. No, no, not happening. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Phil kept up his chanting as he clicked off of the official site onto Ticketmaster. He tried to keep his expectations low––he was looking for tickets fairly late in the game for this sort of show, but as he searched for the tour and looked through the results, his traitorous brain started to do the unthinkable: hope.

But that hope was immediately squashed when he clicked on “VIP” and precisely zero results came up. He tasted metal. So, onto StubHub he went. And the same thing happened. The same on SeatGeek, on Tickets.com, on Goldstar, everywhere he could think of.

“After all of that…” he muttered. His head hit his hard kitchen counter, neck stretching painfully. Phil didn’t care. It seemed punishment enough for waiting so long. If only he had finished his commissions earlier, or even believed in himself just enough to splurge on a ticket before getting the financial guarantee the commissions gave him. But, no. No, he waited. And waited. And now all of the VIP tickets were gone.

“Fuck.” Phil felt like he might cry, but straightened his back anyway, desperate to preserve at least a shred of dignity. There he was, a fully-grown man, about to cry because he couldn’t meet Dan fucking Howell, the patron saint of thirteen-year-olds around the world. How pathetic he was, that he could barely hold himself together.

But, still, he had worked for so long, he had hoped and waited and imagined. He had even let himself hope that… no. No, there was nothing to think now except that he failed. He didn’t work fast enough, didn’t try quickly enough. And there was nothing to do.

“Oh, my God,” he said to the counter, words muffled. “After all of fucking that.”

Anger began to flare in his stomach. His voice grew in pitch.

“After all of fucking that! I fucking…” The word faltered and his anger faded just as quickly as it had come on. “Fuck. After all of that.”

“theyre sold out.” What else would he do but vent to Flame? Because apparently, he didn’t have enough of a life of his own. Because no other grown-ass man would be so broken up about not getting tickets to Dan Howell, the heralded patron saint of teenage girls.

Flame didn’t respond for quite some time, leaving Phil to hope that he was simply caught up in something and not ignoring him. He made himself a grilled cheese on his griddle. And he sulked on the couch in a well of self-pity. Until Flame’s response finally came in.

“fuck.” Of course, he knew what Phil was talking about. And of course, he had the exact same reaction.

“Yeah. You remember when you promised to track Dan down and shake him for tickets? now would be a great time pally”

“it would wouldn’t it?” And then, a second later, “sorry ”

“it just kinda sucks. I mean after all of this??”

“I know.”

“Yeah.”

“Go eat some food, go get some rest, I’m sure a ticket will pop up k?”

“What ticket? At this point everyones already swooped them up––some thirteen yo girls parents probably bought out the last ones or smthg”

“ha. just – try to not think about it and ill see about shaking him down ”

“youre being awfully optimistic”

“guess im just that kind of guy ;)”

“lol right. but thanks anyway. maybe I can use the money I made on rent or something and take some days off work.”

“see? there we go! that’s the spirit champ!!”

“oh shut up”

“alright. just try to stay positive, yeah?” A second message soon followed. “and maybe post something about it. who knows, you might just have a guardian angel somewhere in your followers to help you out.”

“who knows. yeah I might as well. thanks”

“anytime. Positive thoughts!”

“positive thoughts.”

Phil sent his final message with a ghost of a smile threatening to spread on his face.

He would go on to make that post later. And he would receive a rather suspicious anonymous ask telling him that they had a VIP ticket for him and some user named hallowend sent him a link to a QR scanner. He wouldn’t completely trust it, and therefore bought a regular ticket to the venue in question in case it turned out to be a scam.

But the more he thought about it, the more the butterflies in his stomach multiplied. And the more he began to give into the hope encroaching at the edges of his mind. Maybe it would work. Just maybe.

Phil smiled to himself as he fell asleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments make me happier than Phil making the most amazing cereal concoction on Earth!

**Author's Note:**

> More coming soon, I swear!! Follow my Tumblr @philsgiggles for updates and misc. demon content!


End file.
